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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706754">Awakened (A Hazbin Fanfic)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisMarriott/pseuds/ErisMarriott'>ErisMarriott</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Blood and Violence, F/F, F/M, Minor Charlie Magne/Vaggie, Murder, POV Female Character, Slow Build, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:07:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>48,725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisMarriott/pseuds/ErisMarriott</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You (Reader) are murdered by a serial killer; when you awaken, you find yourself in Hell a year after the Hazbin Hotel first opened. </p><p>When you see an advertisement on screen and realize that you're still far too human to survive on the streets alone, you make your way to its entrance. However, if you're in Hell for the reason you think, then you're far from desiring the redemption and chance at entering Heaven that the Hotel touts. </p><p>Of course, this little revelation puts you right on the radar of the infamous Radio Demon, who is far more than he seems. </p><p>And of course, what does the hotel look like a year after opening?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader, Charlie Magne/Vaggie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>614</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Feedback is appreciated. </p><p>Trying to keep the characters true to themselves, but they will eventually evolve along with the original storyline I've created, so please bear with me. </p><p>This story is also available on Wattpad; I operate there under the same username, so please don't be alarmed--it has not been stolen. :)</p><p>[I have updated to allow comments without prior approval. I realize now what "comment moderation" means and I apologize for making commenting so difficult. I'm new to AO3 so I did it as a precaution in the beginning. Hopefully this will make commenting easier and more attractive for people who want to give feedback or general thoughts about the work :) ]</p><p>Updated to explicit due to the violent nature of the nightmares that Reader will experience in future chapters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Somewhere under the starry sky of a moonlit beach, you closed your eyes for the last time. Your (h/c) hair stretched about the sand, treacherous and beautiful—encapsulated and still, as though the breeze from the sea were not disturbing your body at all. </p>
<p>Your hands clutched themselves about your chest in a last testament to your quiet poise. It would be days before the dogs found you. This wasn’t a well-known shoreline; a body was the last thing anyone would expect to find there. They knew you were missing. Swept away by a violent serial killer, no one dared assume that they might find you alive. It was long past the twenty-four hour mark. </p>
<p>What no one expected was the other body not three-hundred feet from you. Knife wounds bled out into the sand, your killer successfully bested by his last victim. Only in your last moments did you realize that the poison he’d dosed you with had been too much. You made your last mark on borrowed time. But it was enough. </p>
<p>A small smile froze upon your lips, your eyes glazed over with secret delight and memories lost to time. </p>
<p>It was over for you on Earth. </p>
<p>But, truly, it was just the beginning.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Nightmare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You finally arrive in Hell. You still haven't taken on your demon form... That might be an invitation for disaster.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your eyes flutter open; terror consumes your beautiful eyes at the sight of a blood-red sky. High above you is some crude rendition of a sun or moon, its dark red surface emblazoned with a bright-red pentagram. Beyond it, you see the faint outline of a much brighter, beautiful spatial body. Despite your well-tuned eyesight, it was too far out for you to see any details. It shed no light here, though. Only to the borders of its distant place in the sky did its light shine. </p><p>You reach out to it in a daze, intent upon reaching it. </p><p>Only the sound of distant screaming jolts you from your stupor. You pull yourself from the ground, unsure of how you landed there in the first place. It’s at that moment you realize that you’re still wearing the clothes you wore when you died. </p><p>Your blood—and his—stain your ripped jeans and a plain black t-shirt. It’s clear to passing strangers that you landed here for murder. But, to you, you’re not so sure it’s fair. It doesn’t take you but a few blinking tears to realize where you are. </p><p>Hell. </p><p>Gunshots rip through the not-so-silent night. Everlasting night. You could tell that the red pentagram above would do little to light these streets. Red, your favorite color, began to grow dull on your eyes. </p><p>Shaking yourself, you feel the blood quicken in your veins. </p><p>How did I end up here?</p><p>Not far from you, a bar is filled with the hustle and bustle of its usual party-goers. In the distance, you see a tall clock-tower. </p><p>365 days remaining. </p><p>“Remaining until?”</p><p>You realize too late that you’ve spoken aloud. Of course, no one pays you any particular mind anyway. Why would they? Everyone was crazy in Hell. </p><p>“Hey, move out of the way!” </p><p>A loud honking startles you again. You look over to see you’re blocking traffic. </p><p>“Highway to Hell, indeed,” you laugh. “Sorry!” </p><p>You wave your hand and move from the street. Not many cars passed through here. Not as many as you were used to when you were… alive. </p><p>Frowning, you return your attention to the bar across the street. Televisions are placed all about the window; a woman—demoness, rather—with bleach blonde hair and screeching red eyes cracks and creaks on the screen, reading about overlords trying to dominate each other in a race to control different parts of Hell following the… extermination? </p><p>“What the hell is an extermination?”</p><p>You blink, fear creeping back under your skin. </p><p>Before you can think to ask, the screen flits to a throw-back sequence. </p><p>Killjoy continues on, completely unbothered by the sickening reports just prior. </p><p>“Today is the one-year anniversary of the opening of Charlie Magne’s Happy Hotel… or should I say, Hazbin Hotel. Today, she joins us to update us on the progress of her establishment’s goal. So, Charlie, have you successfully managed to ‘rehabilitate’ any demons and send them on to Heaven?”</p><p>There’s venom in her voice and eyes. Tension crackles between the two from behind the desk they sit at. Charlie gives her acquaintance a wide, threatening berth. </p><p>“Not yet, Katie. But, we’re making excellent progress. As you know, with the help of Alastor, our establishment has seen a massive uptick in residency. We now have as many as fifty guests that are working hard to make their pathway to Heaven. A few residents might even be ready for our initial trial at getting them in.” </p><p>“Fifty? That’s hardly anything to be proud of.” </p><p>Her neck cracks as she stares down at Charlie, whose lamp-like eyes narrow. </p><p>“Well, Katie, may I remind you that I have fifty residents prior to a single case of successful rehabilitation. Once we have someone pass through Heaven’s gates, I assure you, we’ll have more. Right now, we’re still in an experimental phase.” </p><p>Katie smiles; you’re positive you see saliva slime its way down her wicked fangs. </p><p>“Well, I’m afraid that’s all the time we have. If you think this ridiculous little stint is worth trying out, contact Charlie Magne at the number on the screen!” </p><p>The number flashes for a few seconds before Charlie is escorted off-screen. This leaves you spinning. That girl. </p><p>“Who’s Charlie Magne?” </p><p>The question, once again asked aloud, erupts a chorus of laughter from beside you. A strange, aquatic-looking demon bares his teeth at you. </p><p>“The Princess of Hell, stupid. Daughter of Lucifer himself. She’s all the rage around here. Laughing stock, really. There’s rumors that the king might disown her altogether if she keeps her hotel shenanigans up. The only thing keeping her ass from being kicked to the farthest regions of Hell is that Radio Demon. His reputation and interest in the place is the only thing keeping that damned hotel afloat.” </p><p>He eyes you up and down, scales becoming more luminescent despite there being no light. You wince. </p><p>“Why aren’t you in your demon form yet?”</p><p>You look down to see your utterly human hands. Your skin is still a warm reminder of life. It courses with human blood. It pales as you realize your vulnerability. </p><p>“Come here, toots,” the demon grins. </p><p>You back away, knowing full well that it’s time to run again. </p><p>I’m only dead for a few minutes and I’m already being chased again. Why? Why me?</p><p>You book it down the streets of Hell. In the distance, you see it. The hotel. Of course, it reads “Hazbin” instead of “Happy.” You don’t care. You know it from the short advertisement on television; you pray silently that it’s enough of a barrier to keep you safe from the demon chasing you to its doors. </p><p>You don’t know how you get there so fast. You have no idea how you throw the door open, terror in your wake and fear plastered over your face like a mask. A white-haired, one-eyed moth demon sees you come hurtling through the door; she wastes no time grabbing her angelic spear from beside her place of rest. She rushes to you. </p><p>“Back off!” </p><p>She holds the thing up, gripping it with a violent intensity that makes you back away from her. Why should you trust her either?</p><p>“Give me the human and I will,” the demon hisses. </p><p>“Human?”</p><p>That second voice. </p><p>Turning, you see the Princess of Hell rushing to where your altercation occurs. You become intensely aware of how tall everyone is at that moment. Without your demon form, you’re still a meager 5’4”. Everyone else seems to loom well around the 6-foot to 7-foot range. You back away from their threatening shadows, tears beginning to stream down your face. Charlie’s eyes meet yours and they widen. </p><p>She turns to face the fish demon. </p><p>“You leave right now, or I’ll make sure you disappear and are never seen again.” </p><p>Her eyes flash, red consuming them and horns protruding from her head. The wind whips her long blonde hair and you back away. You don’t want to be caught in that crossfire. Your chest heaves. The moth demon stands attentively at her girlfriend’s side, the two of them intimidating enough to keep the demon at bay. He leaves, huffing and puffing. He makes it to the door, flipping you the bird and hurtling threats at you before slamming the door. </p><p>Charlie and her friend approach you. You scoot yourself across the floor as fast as you possibly can, keeping screams bottled in your throat in the hopes of keeping some of your dignity intact. </p><p>Just when you think it can’t get any worse, you hear a third voice. </p><p>“Hey, toots, what’s going on?”</p><p>“We have a new guest, Angel.” </p><p>“Vaggie, go keep him at bay while I help our new guest.” </p><p>The moth demon nods while Charlie comes closer to you. She extends a gentle hand, concern plastered on her ghostly face. </p><p>“Please, I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you. I have a room here for you to stay in and I can promise that freaks like that can’t hurt you here, understand?”</p><p>Your breathing comes in short, desperate gasps. She becomes aware of the mark on your arm. A deep, violent needle wound. A larger gauge jammed so deep into your skin. Where he drugged you. The last pain you felt before utter bliss. Then darkness. </p><p>You see her eyes fall on it. </p><p>“What happened to you? Why are you here?”</p><p>“Oh, Charlie!” </p><p>This fourth voice sends chills down your spine. </p><p>“Alastor, I thought you weren’t back from hunting for another few weeks!” </p><p>“Ran out of prey,” he calls. His voice sounds intoxicating. You were a radio-head before you died; he sounded like old recordings from talk show hosts of the past. You loved old music, old talk shows, old anything. Vintage was your world. </p><p>But the static in his voice makes you pause. You know this has to be the Radio Demon that fish demon spoke of. You hear the clacking of his boots make their way toward Charlie. You try your best to hide in the corner of the wall you’ve chosen to hide against. </p><p>“What are you—well, hello!” </p><p>Dark red eyes with brighter red pupils fall on you before you even have a chance to catch your breath. They glow with menacing, yet delighted intent. You clutch your arm to hide your wound—the ghost of it, anyway. </p><p>“What’s your name, dear?”</p><p>You shake. </p><p>“I… I can’t remember.” </p><p>You really can’t. That’s the first bewildering thing that hits you. You were in such a frenzy when you died. </p><p>“Well, if your death was particularly traumatic, that can happen,” Charlie starts.</p><p>“Nothing traumatic happened!” </p><p>You screech it back, denial filling your veins. </p><p>Alastor, ever-composed with a smile, has the audacity to laugh. You look at him with profound horror. He’s enjoying this. Watching you like this. Weak. Trapped. Evading the truth. </p><p>“Come now, darling. We’re all friends, here! How did you die? Perhaps you can retrace your steps. Find out why you’re still a human of all things.” </p><p>You frown and his smile widens.</p><p>“Smile!” </p><p>Your frown widens in rebellious defiance. He leans down to you, pulling your hand from your arm. The gash is still there, glaring at everything that stares at it. His eyes included. Charlie moves forward to grab his arm. His hand comes flying up in a warning. </p><p>“Don’t touch!” </p><p>She sighs, looking at you with something like a mixed sense of sadness and empathy. But it was clear how the hierarchy worked here. Alastor was in charge. She wasn’t willing to cross paths with him, which made your bones rattle even more. </p><p>“What happened here?”</p><p>Determination scrunches itself across your face. You don’t know this creature’s story. His red and black hair, his dark yellow fangs for teeth, and his claws have no bearing on your assessment of him. Right now, he was just a demon asking questions. He looms over you, though. Taller than Charlie. Huge. It makes you feel like a cockroach waiting to be stepped on. </p><p>You swallow. </p><p>“He… he didn’t have a name. Not a publicized one.” </p><p>Alastor cocks his head, his smile fading a bit—becoming more… normal?</p><p>“Who, dear?”</p><p>You stop shaking, composing yourself. You move to lift yourself up and find his arms hitched beneath your own, lifting you up. He swings you up bridal-style in a theatrical flair and sets you on a chaise in the entryway, as though you were a patient ready for a round of hypnosis or therapy. He pulls away and for a moment, you have to steady yourself. </p><p>“I… I was a fool. And if I’m here for the reason I think, then Charlie, you don’t want to give me a room.” </p><p>Charlie frowns. </p><p>“Why ever not?”</p><p>“Because I don’t want to go to Heaven if it’s against the rules to defend yourself.” </p><p>Alastor raises an ever-more eager eyebrow, his grin growing wider again.</p><p>“From?”</p><p>You sigh. </p><p>“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, but this is the moment where the dead can speak. Since he robbed me of that. So I will. It’s a long story, so if you want to hear it, fine. Shut up and listen. If not, I can talk to you, Charlie, about where I can go to be safe where going to Heaven isn’t a goal.” </p><p>From nowhere, and before Charlie can protest, Alastor procures two chairs to sit across from you. A cup of coffee appears in his hand and he looks positively chuffed at the thought of some stranger’s revealing storytime. </p><p>“Well, go on!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once again, let me know what you think! I decided to post the prologue and chapter one on the same day so you all can go ahead and get a glimpse of the direction that this story will start out in. Stay tuned for more! (Or, at least let me know if you would like more!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Dead Shall Speak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warning: </p><p>This chapter contains details about Reader's death. If you aren't a fan of longer depictions of violence, please feel free to wait for the next update. It'll be along soon :3</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You were twenty-three. College was just in your rear-view mirror. You planned to become an English teacher for high schoolers. Set above your car radio was the phone dock; you set a gas station as your waypoint. You were starving, in need of a restroom, and tired. You needed to ask someone about local hotels. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>The minute you had a job offer, you jumped. The place was perfect; you had an apartment lined up to be rented. The salary was meager, but the area itself wasn’t expensive and you’d managed to pay off a lot of your loans in college. Not all of them. There would be payments. But you could manage. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You’d been on the road for two days, unable to afford a plane ticket. You planned on living in Alabama. It was warm and, despite the misconceptions about it, you’d fallen in love during your interview with the big city of Birmingham. The school system would be a challenge, but you weren’t one to back down from a fight. Those kids needed hope. You were willing to bring it to them. You drove down from Pennsylvania, taking your time and seeing sights along your way. It wasn’t a glamorous trip, but you never got to leave your state before. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You turn your blinker on, pulling into a gas station in Tennessee. You make your way into the store, eyeing sweets and chips and sodas as the perfect fuel to keep you going until you found somewhere to stay. This would be the last pit stop before you made the long-haul to Birmingham. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You make eye contact with the cashier. He gives you a flirtatious smile. You return it. No harm, right?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Satisfied with your choices, you set your favorite candies on the counter. He begins to scan them. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Passing through?”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Yeah.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Where ya headed?”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Birmingham.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“That’s a nice city.”<br/>
</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Any bravery he had fizzled out after that. He was a nice enough guy, but not your type. In any case, he was local. He had the information you needed. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Hey, where is a good place to stay around here? I need a break for the night.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>The guy’s smile returns, brightening at the chance to speak to you again. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Just down the road to the right, you’ll see a little grove of trees and a sign without a name on it anymore. This isn’t really an official town anymore. Just a few of us locals left. But Margaret’s Bed and Breakfast is a good place to stay. She lets anyone passing through stay the night. She has awesome biscuits and gravy in the morning, too. Complimentary.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Your stomach growls audibly at the thought of such a delicacy. You and the cashier share a laugh. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Sounds like you need ‘em.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“You’re telling me.”<br/>
</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You smile at him again, taking your bag of goods once your card clears. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Maybe you’ll stop by before you leave?”<br/>
</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You ponder it. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Maybe I will.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You wink, turning on your heel and blushing at your sudden spur of confidence. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“What’s your name?”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You hear yourself say it, but you can’t make out the memory. Cursing yourself, you keep pacing back through that dreadful night. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>In fact, you never would make it to Margaret’s Bed and Breakfast. You wouldn’t even leave the parking lot before you, too, would fall victim. Just like the rest. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">~*~ </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You stop to catch a breath. Your heart is pounding like you’re living in a real-life horror movie. A quick glance around reminds you that, you kind of are. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor’s smile thins a bit. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why’d you stop?” he presses.</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You lower your head. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s hard for me to relive this. I should have checked the backseat of my car. I should have locked the damn thing in the first place.” </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie frowns at you. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why?” Her face is plastered with even more concern.</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, no one seemed to have the courteousness to tell me that at least thirty women went missing from that same gas station before me.” </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie’s eyes widen. Alastor’s grin grows manic. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? Wait, how did you figure that out?” Charlie sputters.</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You smile. You don’t know how you do it, but you do. Alastor claps. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I saw the trophies.” </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The what?” Charlie asks.</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look, I don’t want to relive the rest right now, okay? I’ll just say this. There was a serial killer that hid himself in the back of my car. He held a gun to my head, knocked me out by bludgeoning me in the back of the head, and he tied me up in the trunk. A few hours later, I woke up to find myself in his cabin by the coast. And do you know how I know how many women it was?”</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie looks even paler than she already is, but she nods. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He cuts their heads off and mounts them on the wall. Like the big game you see in a fricken hunting shop or whatever. And do you know why I’m here, Charlie?”</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She shakes her head. Alastor is shoving popcorn into his terrifying maw as though his appetite might never be satisfied. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, he used a type of drug. I’m not sure what. But somehow, my body didn’t metabolize it right away. While he left to get his ‘tools’ I broke free. When he got back, I stole a knife and ran for it. We made it to the coast. Finally, I got the courage, turned around, and I stabbed him exactly twenty-three times in the torso. Twenty-three for every year I lived. I thought I was home free. I started running again. My head went fuzzy and I realized… he’d given me too much. I felt it hit me like a train. And then it went dark. But see, I never really did anything else wrong. So do you know what that means, Charlie?”</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You don’t let her continue. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m here because I had the audacity to murder my own killer.” </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You stand up with violent embarrassment staining your cheeks. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wasn’t going to be mounted on some damn wall. If anyone mounts shit on the wall, it’s me. So, if you want me to go to Heaven, go ahead. Try. But it isn’t going to work because <em>I don’t want to go</em>.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>
You flip the bird toward the sky, right in the direction of that brighter planet you saw earlier. That must be it. Heaven. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor doesn’t seem as happy anymore. He wears his smile, but he seems… concerned?<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You ignore it. Charlie places a hand on your shoulder, finding the daring courage to speak to you in your current fit of rage. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I… I think you can still stay. I don’t want you out there like this.”</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She gestures to you, your weakness still evident to everyone. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I agree. We wouldn’t want this precious little gem to be eaten alive, anyway, would we?”<br/>
</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor spoke again, this time his voice a welcome sound. You turn to him, smiling. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I assure you, I’m not delicious or nutritious.” You decide a small joke can't hurt.</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He laughs. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know, darling. I could make quite a bowl of gumbo out of you. But, I do suppose you don’t look right for eating. It just… wouldn’t suit you.” </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sneers at you and you step back, noticing for the first time the antlers between his ears. You feel your cheeks flushing with shame again. All those comments about hunting and mounting things on the wall. Had you offended him?</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t seem to register if you had. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come, I’ll show you the hotel.” </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor extends a hand to you. Charlie seems apprehensive, but again, she’s not steering this ship anymore. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s show you to your room first. I suppose you don’t have any belongings?”</span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake your head, looking straight down at the ground. You had nothing. No vinyl records. No radio. No car. No clothes beyond what you died in. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I… I don’t.” </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, don’t worry! I can take you out later and help you get that sorted.” </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look up at him, your smile disappearing. He seems annoyed by this; he stretches your face back into a smile with his claws before you can protest. </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I… I don’t… you don’t….” </span>
</p><p class="p5"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh but why not? You need someone to help you. As much as Charlie and Vaggie are great protectors, they can’t keep you safe on the streets. <em>I </em>can.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you to everyone who's read and interacted with this story so far! I've never written a fanfiction before so this is rather fun for me. I can't promise that updates will always be this regular, but I'm aiming to achieve regular updates (though not on a set schedule like every Friday or Monday or something). Grad school is hard ;-; BUT this is a great outlet for me and I appreciate anyone who's enjoying this along with me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Rules</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your room number had been scratched from the door, though Alastor insisted the plaque would be replaced and emblazoned with the number 707. You wondered for a moment if it was possible for a hotel to have seven-hundred-seven rooms. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Of course it is, you dolt. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You did your best to hide your amazement at the towering ceilings that threatened to swallow you up from overhead in the lobby; when you got to the smaller hallways and corridors that eventually snaked their way to your room, you were breaking out into a sweat, your body threatening to shudder at the thought of getting lost in such a large place. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To appease Alastor, you faked a smirk the whole time. Your new poker face around him, you decided. You did your best to hide the occasional glances you made in his direction to try and get a read off him. He never did stop smiling, though it would widen and fall in response to various comments or questions he would bounce in your direction. You never seemed to catch the ball quite fast enough; he never really let you answer. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You decided to let him ramble on and tell you the random dad joke or two that always seemed to bubble to the surface to shatter the awkward silence that would drape between you if the conversation was left up to you. Oddly enough, you were grateful for his insistent chattering. All the while, his hand gripped yours with a ferocity that made his quiet threat clear. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You can’t escape me. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You swallow, trying harder than ever to keep the smile plastered to your face as he finishes giving you the details about when meals were served, what to expect about your stay, and the ground rules given your… <em>human</em> state. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are, under no circumstances, to leave this room without an approved escort. As of now, the only approved escorts you have are myself, Charlie, and Vaggie. I will tell you now, <em>I do not tolerate disobedience</em>.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His voice became distorted, his eyes swirling red dials of terror that almost wiped your poker face clean off in favor of sheer terror. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I-I understand.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wonderful! Wouldn’t want our new, curious little guest to end up erased on her first day! So soon after the extermination, too.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor sighs, his smile full of some secret, sick fascination at the thought of whatever that extermination thing was. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is—?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, darling. Questions will have to wait until later. I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do and I have to ensure that our newest cooks are putting together dishes worthy of our guests.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grits his teeth at that last statement. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Too many cooks in the kitchen, huh?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He chuckles. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You could say that. Now, by your phone you’ll find the extensions to contact either of your escorts. I’ll have one of us come up and bring you down for dinner; Niffty should be by later to take your measurements for new clothes and give you some new ones.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He snapped his fingers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In the meantime, take these. Leave your current… <em>outfit</em>… out for Niffty and she’ll make sure they are cleaned for you. All of your toiletries should already be ready for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shoved neatly folded jeans, a t-shirt, and <em>undergarments</em> into your hands. You were beet red when you realized that they were probably your exact measurements. Keeping your grin half-cocked, you looked up at him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Th-thank you. I won’t keep you any longer. I appreciate you bringing me to my room and giving me clothes even though I’m not… an ideal candidate to stay here.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor waved his clawed hands. You didn’t get the look at them that you wanted since he moved so fast. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nonsense, my dear. It was a pleasure. I look forward to getting to know you more! Now, go freshen up. I can’t imagine having all that blood on you being too pleasant.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With a turn of his heel, he marches off in the opposite direction. You whirl about and try not to make it sound too much like you were slamming the door behind him. You lock every bolt that sits behind the door in an attempt to tell the world you <em>weren’t</em> going anywhere. You don’t want to piss off Alastor—not after seeing him warp into that terrifying creature that was a far cry from the smiling being that cracked and laughed at his own jokes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To your terror, the clothing in your hands were, indeed, to your exact measurements. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So why have Niffty…?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake your head, releasing the smile from your face. Your cheeks ache from having held them aloft for so long. You don’t recall ever smiling that much even when you were alive. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You take your time to remove the clothing from your body, the blood in the shirt and pants now sticking to your skin. You hold back a gag. You’re not sure why you’re doing your best to keep your composure in a moment like this. Necessity? Fear? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>How… how did I end up like this? </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a rhetorical question. Of course you <em>know</em> how you got blood on yourself. But how you ended up in Hell and at the mercy of creatures that tower over you and can snap you out of existence with a wink and a smile? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And what did Alastor mean by <em>erased</em>? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shiver, making your way to the bathroom. You’re relieved to find it similar to something akin to a hotel bathroom back on Earth. It’s pretty barren; you wonder if you’re allowed to decorate it. The room as a whole could use some personalization. A standard four post bed and a side table with a white phone and bland-looking lamp were all you had taken note of; you stand in the shower and let the water rush over you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I guess there is water in Hell. How many preachers would be upset to know they lied about that little fact?<br/></em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You smile again; your cheeks aren’t too happy with you about that as they wince and grimace in pain from having been forced to stay in that pose for what felt like hours while you walked through the halls with Alastor. But you didn’t care. You started to feel… <em>normal</em>. If that was even possible. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before you know it, you’re getting out of the shower and toweling off. You slip your new clothes on and take note of yourself in the mirror. Your (e/c) eyes look the same. Your (h/c) is original to itself from before you died. Your skin is paler—more sickly. But otherwise, you look fine. Except, in Hell, that <em>isn’t</em> fine. It’s the reason you’re now a prisoner at a hotel for rehabilitation. And, of course, you don’t even <em>want </em>to be rehabilitated. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You stroll back out into your room. Before you can start to get acquainted with your new furniture or even drop yourself dramatically into the stark red comforter—the only bright thin in the room—as a means of calming yourself, you hear a knock. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hello? Miss? Alastor wanted me to come by and get your measurements. He said you might have some dirty clothes, too?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You make hesitant strides to the door; you carefully undo the latches and find yourself looking <em>down</em> at a creature smaller than you. One large, yellow-orange orb stares up at you from possibly the cutest face you’ve ever seen. Her dark pink bob frames her face and her poodle skirt screams 50’s. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you Niffty?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, ma’am!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She gives you a dramatic salute. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You chuckle at her childlike mannerisms and the clear excitement emblazoned on her face. She was more than an open book. She was like an action movie on steroids. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In a pink and yellow blur, she rushes past you to grab the dirty clothes you left strewn about the floor. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, I’m sorry, I hadn’t gotten the chance to pick those up yet. I was just glad to—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not to worry, Miss! Alastor told me all about the blood. I wouldn’t want to be in that for very long either. Now, hold still while I measure you!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You would hardly call what happened measuring. All you saw was the pink and yellow blur fluttering around you with a hot pink strand of a measuring tape. In a blink, she was folding up your dirty clothes and holding a notebook with your measurements. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have a lovely figure! I bet men loved you up on Earth!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You laugh. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not really. I never really gave them the time of day,” you smirk. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was true. You didn’t have an interest in dating when you were alive. You were focused on your goals and nothing but. Why let love get in the way? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well that’s a shame!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With an excited squeak, she practically flies out the door. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll see you later, Miss! Oh! I never caught your name!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You pause. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t have one. Maybe you can help me think of one later?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She giggles. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll come up with a list!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And with that, she disappears. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once again, you shut the door; finally, the comforter gets what’s coming to it. You fling yourself onto the bed. It doesn’t creak beneath your weight and you’re relieved that it’s as comfortable as anything else you’d ever slept on. Maybe even more-so. You lift your head from the comforter and find a small alarm clock glaring at you, the red numbers matching the rest of the surroundings in Hell. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Are there any other colors besides red here?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You groan. It was another two hours before dinner; you literally have <em>nothing</em> to do. You don’t dare dial any extensions. These people were already way too nice to you. Instead, you sink back into your covers and let yourself doze. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>This’ll pass the time. </em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm so overwhelmed by the response I've gotten so far! Thank you everyone :) </p>
<p>I find this writing very cathartic, so I've been writing this morning and decided to upload another chapter. Once again, feedback is appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Dinner and Foolishness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You awake to hear a soft rapping at the door. You blink, taking a moment to realize where you are again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Hell.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Luckily, you’re not the type to get too lost when you’ve been asleep for a while. Your brain doesn’t try to sugarcoat things for you. You know, unfortunately, that you’re still stuck in this strange plight of yours. Your hands remain stuck in a very human shape upon a quick examination. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You groan. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Slipping off the bed, you come towards the door. It occurs to you that you don’t have any other shoes beyond the ones you had when you came to Hell. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Alastor must’ve forgotten that people need those. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You stifle a giggle. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, hon, you alright?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You open the door to find the moth demon standing before you. Vaggie. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I’m okay,” you rub your eyes. “Sorry, I fell asleep. I guess I was more tired than I thought from all the commotion earlier.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She offers you a small smile. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks for saving my skin, by the way. You didn’t even know me; I appreciate you stepping in like you did. I hope we can become good friends for as long as Charlie lets me stay here.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She extends a hand and places it loosely on your shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The one thing I know about my girlfriend is that she’s the last person to be hard on people or to judge them. You? She told me about what happened to you. She’s horribly upset by it and understands why you would be skeptical of going to Heaven. But she remains hopeful that there’s something we can do to fix what happened. And even if we can’t, I know she’ll always give you a place to stay as long as she possibly can. And of course we can be friends. I’d like that. Don’t get many of those down here.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You smile, hiding the sadness that’s begun to creep along your face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I take it you came here to get me for dinner?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I did. Alastor requests that you eat in the kitchen, though. We’ve got quite a few residents; not all of them would be so kind if they found a human dining with them. Charlie and I are going to eat in there with you, though. I know he’s been here a while now, but I still don’t trust him. I know he helped you when you first got here but, please, keep yourself safe, hon. Don’t trust him. And <em>don’t</em> make any deals with him.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Deals?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll explain the details while we go. At least what I know of them, anyway.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You dip your head, following along behind her while she explains the plight of the poor fools that had previously fallen victim to the Radio Demon’s charms. The way he manipulated people to climb to power. To become an Overlord. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before you reach the end of the hall, you stop Vaggie for a moment, paling at the stories she’s just told you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>That smiling creature is responsible for so much terror?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You blink, trying to ignore the memory of that terrifying, warped form he took on to keep you from getting ideas about leaving your room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s an Overlord, Vaggie?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She sighs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll have to debrief you about that later. Long story short: he’s kind of like a minor ruler here. He owns territories. Hangs out with the big whigs or whatever. And the only way you get to that status here is if you’re violent and extraordinarily powerful. He’s both.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shudder. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks for filling me in. No wonder he gave me the creeps when I first met him.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She chuckles.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, me too. Still does. Anyways, I hope you like (favorite food). He made it especially for you. One thing I’ve learned is not to question him about his cooking or what he chooses. He gets pissed off about it, believe it or not.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You nod. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He did seem rather protective of the kitchen earlier. Luckily, that happens to be one of my favorites, so I’m sure I’ll enjoy it. Is he a good cook?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Unfortunately, I have to give him credit there. He might just be the best cook here in Hell.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your stomach growls in response and you both share a laugh. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You take note of the pink “x” that sits atop a patch that covers her eye. You know better than to ask, but curiosity overwhelms you. You hope that, once you know everyone better, she’ll tell you what happened to it. You didn’t like the idea of your friends being in pain or suffering. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>This is hell, you dork, you can’t really help that. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You suppress the need to shrug at yourself as she leads you back out into the treacherously large lobby. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s blissfully quiet. Everything is neatly arranged; the only bright or interesting thing is the concierge’s desk. It looks more like a bar, adorned with the skulls of unnaturally large deer whose eyes glow green. Behind it sits what looks like an extraordinarily large cat with… <em>wings?</em> They’re covered in card symbols. Spades. Jacks. Hearts. Clubs. They form a rather beautiful pattern along the scarlet and dark gray striping on those strange wings. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without thinking, you leave Vaggie’s side to go introduce yourself. She says nothing but trails after you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi, I’d tell you my name but I don’t really know it.” You rub at your neck, realizing how awkward you sound. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fantastic, kid. Go away.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re a bit taken aback by how gruff this demon sounds. But you’re unphased. You’re overwhelmed by the stench of alcohol; you take note of the bottle of booze gripped firmly in his claws and you put two and two together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>It’s no mystery why he’s here. But why would someone go to Hell because they have an addiction? That’s a mental illness… doesn’t he deserve healing?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You grimace. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you play cards?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At this, he stiffens and turns to you. His eyes match his yellow teeth—similar to Alastor’s, though not nearly as sharp. A long, swishing tail becomes visible at the mention of a game. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, you think so just ‘cause I got these wings?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You laugh. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, yeah? I’m not a dumbass. Why else would your demon form literally incorporate cards into them if they weren’t important to you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grunts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m right, I suppose. Anyway, I was just gonna ask if maybe later you could teach me to play. If Alastor lets me come down into the lobby for such a purpose.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He raises a bright, furry, red eyebrow that almost makes you laugh upon realizing just how bizarre they look. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re letting that clown decide if you can come down and play cards or not?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shrug. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Part of the rules of being here for me, I guess.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He slaps a hand to his face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I ain’t promising anything. Not if you’re gonna be that clown’s personal pushover.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your cheeks flush. Before you can say anything else, Vaggie grabs at your shoulders and pulls you back on your journey to the kitchen. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t take it too personally, hon. He’s just… <em>like</em> that. All he does is drink booze and offend people.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You ball your fist up and smack it into your other open hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He can’t scare me away. I <em>will</em> get him to teach me to play cards.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you so intent upon doing that?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because. Just… because.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You didn’t put into words the way you hated how people with addictions became ostracized wherever they went. The life of loneliness they tried to hide. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>How do they know he’s not grieving something? That he doesn’t have some other problems that he’s just not sharing?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You quiet this bubbling thoughts when you and Vaggie reach the kitchen. She doesn’t press you anymore on the cards subject; you’re grateful. At the moment, your head is spinning from hunger. You need to focus on that before you get yourself into any more trouble. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When the doors swing open, you’re greeted by a gleaming, white kitchen. It’s pristine. A large, stainless steel refrigerator gleams in the light, not a scratch to be found. In the center of the room, a light, sandy island sits with a few spices neatly arranged on a spinning spice rack in the center. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If the light through the window weren’t red, it would be something out of a kitchen catalogue. It’s beautifully decorated, but simple. You’re tempted to open the cabinets; you’re sure you’ll find plenty of foods organized by type, color, flavor… it all just screams <em>clean</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At the far end of the kitchen, a smaller dining room table has been arranged. Vaggie walks over and takes a seat next to Charlie; the only empty seat is one that is right next to <em>him</em>. He smiles at you playfully, waving with far too much excitement for you to come take a seat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your feet find themselves almost being forced to come over and plop yourself down to the same entity that Vaggie had just described as a bloodthirsty, all-powerful psychopath. But your poker face found itself back in place. You didn’t want him forcing it on, anyway. Your small smile is met with an even wider one by the entity in question. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve made (favorite food); I hope you’ll find it to your liking!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, it smells delectable so I’m sure I will!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You know your table manners well, so you wait for plates to be distributed by none other than Niffty, who looks positively eager to talk your ear off if given the chance. You help pass around the various bowls and plates so everyone can have a chance at giving themselves a portion of all the lovely food Alastor made. Once everyone has a fair share, you wait for everyone to get situated and then begin to eat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor raises an eyebrow, impressed by your knowledge of etiquette. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who taught you your table manners?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I worked for a few business firms as an intern before I learned I wanted to become a teacher. With all the events that they hosted, you catch on quick if you want to keep in the good graces of the people you’re trying to convince you’re worth paying.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You dab at your mouth with a napkin; you’ve already placed a second in your lap and you’re careful to keep your elbows off the table. These practices were mechanical to you at this point. You weren’t kidding about the events you’d been to. Food at every one of them; it was easy to see why caricatures of business people always had them looking fat. You gained about ten pounds yourself while doing all those odd jobs for them. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I see. Well, I’m glad to know someone understands how the dinner table should work.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grins at you with something like genuine approval and you match it, doing your best to keep yourself composed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When you’ve all finished your food, you offer to help clean dishes with Niffty. Alastor claps at this, once again blown away by your personality. Before you know it, he’s helping the both of you as well. Charlie and Vaggie reluctantly leave you behind while you scrub at the plates and help load them into the dishwasher. You make sure to be every more wary now that you’re alone with Alastor. Niffty didn’t seem like much protection; in fact, she acts like Alastor’s daughter with the way she tugs at his coat, smiles up at him, immediately rushes to help him with whatever he’s doing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s kind of cute watching them work together. But you know better than to stare too long and grab unwanted attention. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When the work is finished, he invites you to grab a seat again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Curious, you go along with it and join him back and the dining room table. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, darling, I’m glad you enjoyed your meal.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was delicious.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now, earlier you wanted to ask me some questions; I was, unfortunately, busy at the time. Are there any pressing questions you’d like to get out of the way now?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re a bit stunned—you weren’t expecting him to willingly just sit down and offer you something like this. Without trying to get you to strike a deal, no less. But you don’t question it anymore than that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I guess I’m just not sure about how any of this works. Is it normal for someone to arrive in Hell without their demon form?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, however, if it doesn’t show up within the next few days, then we may have a minor problem on our hands. But, judging your form now as opposed to when you first arrived today, I can already tell there have been some minor changes. It won’t be long before you know what type of demon you are.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You blink, unsure of what he’s talking about, but you leave it for the moment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, that’s good… I guess… uhm, what’s an extermination?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor laughs at this one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That has to do with why the hotel exists, my sweet. You see, Hell is plagued with overpopulation. So, every year, angels descend on Hell and cull the population. Demons can’t be killed save by the blade of an angel. Once they get hit with something of that caliber, they’re erased. They descend into darkness; they’re no more.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He says it with so little effort, as though it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. You, on the other hand, lose your poker face. He doesn’t seem bothered by it this time, though. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, so, I take it the princess is trying to get people into Heaven so we can solve the overpopulation problem?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He snaps his fingers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re a bright one. Yes!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you believe in this cause?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A laugh track plays; you look around wondering where it’s coming from before blushing. It’s coming from <em>him</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Duh, stupid.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s clearly amused, catching on to why you were looking around in that moment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I do not. I’m merely here for entertainment purposes. I like watching people fail to reach their goals—I like watching them stumble and trip on the path to redemption. There’s a reason people end up here; they had a chance while living, so why on Earth would they change now? And why would Heaven even take them now when their sins are now myriad compared to what they were before they died?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You nearly choke. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He likes watching people fail? And why does his point of view make so much… sense?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“</em>Okay, I think that’s all my questions for now. Oh-wait-am I allowed to get things to decorate my room? How does one get a job down here to pay for things, anyway?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t have to pay for anything because you’re on the hotel’s tab.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But I’m not seeking—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Never you mind that, dear. You’re here, you’re one of us, and I will take you out tomorrow for clothing now that we have your measurements; if you see a few things you’d like for your room,I’ll get them for you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But I—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His grin becomes feral and you shut your trap. Clearly there would be no arguing here. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fair enough.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Not fair, but whatever. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You hate getting gifts, being helped without having to work for something yourself… it feels <em>gross.</em></span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But you know that arguing with Alastor is a losing battle. He seems pleased that you’ve caught on to that so soon. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Unfortunately, once again, I must cut this conversation short. There are other people who’ve finished dining and I must clean up after them.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not let me help you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You blurt out the offer before you can stop yourself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That would be wonderful! I’ll go collect the plates. I don’t want you leaving the kitchen in your current state. But once I’m back we can snap to it!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In a blink, he’s left the room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You groan. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Why do I offer to help him so easily? Am I stupid?</em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you all enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Uncertainty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A few hours passed; you and Alastor successfully managed to scrub every plate clean. Just as you suspected, the orderliness of the kitchen was something from Alastor’s own set of standards. He expected you to follow his orders to the letter; any time you put something remotely out of place, he would taunt and tease you mercilessly until you put it in the proper alignment. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s late now; you yearn for your room and the comfortable bed you dozed off on earlier. He can see the exhaustion in your eyes as he puts away the last plate. With a snap of his fingers, the cabinets shut and a few stray items fly to their place.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You blink. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait—were you able to do that with all the dishes? Did we just wash them for nothing?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He chuckles, his eyes laced with mischievous venom—more-so than usual, which you didn’t even think was possible before this moment. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You made me endure all that teasing for nothing?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now wait just a moment, I wanted you to understand the workings of this kitchen. It’s important for everyone to know how I expect things to be put back, especially if this is the only room they’re currently allowed to eat in.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes narrow and you, sadly, understand what he means. More rules. More restrictions. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>More things to worry about. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You drop your smile and bury your face in your hands. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When will this end?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When will what end, darling?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You groan, rubbing your temples and refusing to look up at him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just want things to be… <em>normal</em>. I don’t understand how lashing out at a serial killer lands you in Hell of all places. And I don’t understand why I had to show up looking like <em>this. </em>Did you have to put up with this when you first got here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He laughs. You already know the answer before he spits it out. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No. I got here and immediately set to work on establishing a… <em>name</em>…for myself.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You roll your eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I see you have no problem with confidence.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes follow you as you take a seat at the dining room table once more. You need something to prop you up other than your legs. They’re ready to cave out from underneath you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He comes to sit beside you, his eyes glinting with curiosity; you wonder how you’re able to pick up on his emotions so easily despite the smile that constantly plasters itself on his face. You wonder if other people are able to do that so easily. He cocks his head to the side, examining you like a science project rather than another person. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ve changed a bit even in the few moments we’ve been working together.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Few moments?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You spit this retort back at him a little less playfully than you intended, but he chooses to take it as a joke, nonetheless. You’re no threat to him. You’re just a wayward soul with an attitude that could be squished in a second. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A hand mirror appears before you. Your eyes widen in shock at the sight of yourself. Your teeth are beginning to grow sharp. Your eyes are the same (e/c) but they’ve taken on an ethereal glow. Not much else has changed, but to you, it’s startling. Your lip trembles; you turn your face away so he can’t see. But he already knows. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He scoots beside you, ever the person to ignore personal space, and loops an arm around your shoulders. To your surprise, he runs a claw through your hair and smiles a bit more softly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There, there. It’ll be alright. It’s a necessary thing. You can’t be running around in fear of being erased all the time.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You sniff. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought you had to be stabbed with an angel’s blade to be erased.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you don’t think demons haven’t gotten smart enough to steal them and use them? And besides, there are worse things besides being erased. I’m only telling you this to… <em>protect</em> you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You don’t trust him enough to bury yourself in his chest, though a part of you longs to. You want so desperately to have someone crush you in their embrace and sweep you all away from this. It’s an unsettling feeling. You’ve always been painfully independent. You’ve never <em>needed</em> anyone. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So you shove the thought away and accept the arm around your shoulder instead, choosing not to push it off as you ordinarily would. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do you want to protect me, anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Somewhere in the distance, that laugh track plays again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, darling, I’m not even sure. You’re just so… <em>entertaining</em>.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You can’t bear to look at him. You don’t want to know what he looks like in this moment. Who gets that kind of sick fascination from someone’s suffering? What kind of freak were you sitting next to right now? Vaggie’s description of him hardly did him justice. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He’s a monster.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, my dear,” he stands, “I think it’s time I return you to your room. It’s rather late and we wouldn’t want to be late for your shopping spree tomorrow! Niffty is rather excited to go with us.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before you know it, he’s grabbed your hands and in a <em>snap</em> you’re standing outside your door. True to his promise, your door’s placard has been replaced. You stifle the urge to shake at the rushing feeling in your ears and mind from having been rushed from one place to another so fast. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look up at him and see that his smile is larger than ever. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I expect you to be up no later than seven. I’ll escort you down to breakfast and Niffty and I will take you out after. If you sleep in, <em>I’ll </em> be sure to come in and wake you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He leans in and whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t think you’d want that.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In a blink, he disappears again, leaving you standing wide-eyed and terrified in the doorway. You rush into your room and slam the door behind you, locking every lock again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>As if that would keep him out. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You settle into your bed, trying your best to block out the noise of his laughter and the sight of his menacing stares playing over and over in your mind. But they just won’t go away. After a while, you get up and set your alarm clock. You realize you still don’t have pajamas, but you’ll be damned before you sleep in your underwear or worse… <em>nude</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So you stay above your comforter in your new clothes. Your ratty old shoes are sitting in a corner. Clean, might you add. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I guess Niffty already cleaned my clothes. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You get up and cross to the dresser and find them neatly folded inside. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Guess I know what I’m wearing tomorrow,” you mutter. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without another word to yourself or anyone else, you’re back in the bed, mildly satisfied knowing that, at least, your clothes are clean and your alarm is set. Before you know it, you’re fast asleep. And that’s when the trouble starts. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for how short this one is; the next chapter will be much longer. I try to have a few chapters in a cache ready to go so updates don't get lagged even when I go a bit without writing. I have an exam this week, though, so no guarantees on the daily updates I've been maintaining! </p>
<p>That being said, boy is this fun to write! Stay tuned!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Transform</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You wake up, sand threading through your fingers. Your skin aches; it’s begun to tinge with a nasty looking green. Your bones have become brittle; the smell of rot and decay taint the air. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You sit up, eyes focusing in on the world around you. You’re back on the shoreline. It’s been days. No one has found you yet. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You look across from you and, to your horror, your killer is getting up, too. You grip the knife in your hand, the blood stains from the first time you stabbed him now a dark, inky black; it was spotted along the metal that winked in the night, having faded from sitting out in the elements.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Stay back,” you hiss. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>His eyes are unfocused; it’s as if, to him, you aren’t there. He gets up, his limbs snapping and his skin beginning to slough off. The two of you look like zombies from a pathetic horror movie. He begins to move toward you. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Stay BACK!” </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You say it with far more urgency and terror than the venom you wished to spit in his direction. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He still doesn’t seem to hear you. For the first time, you register what he looks like. Middle-aged. Scruffy. Dark eyes that are like the night. His skin, though tinged with green now, is pale from lack of sunlight. He’s slightly heavyset and his hands are calloused from what one would assume hard work. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Though, you suppose it was hard work murdering all those girls. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He’s only a few yards from you now. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Do I run?” you whisper to yourself. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>His jaw cracks; darkness spills from it. His eyes slowly start to stretch wide. The blackness glows red; the pupils turn to dials. Antlers sprout from the killers head. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“No, darling. You die.” </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shoot up in your bed; it’s at least an hour before your alarm is set to go off. Your heart thuds in its chest and you grasp hold of your dream, making sure it doesn’t escape you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What the heck? </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You decide it’s probably best to shower off; the sweaty mess you were wasn’t going to look very becoming for your first day out in the streets of Hell. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Like anyone cares. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When you step into the bathroom and find yourself still trying to collect your thoughts and understand your dream, you turn to look in the mirror and stifle your mouth before you screech. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your teeth are even <em>sharper</em> than the night previous. Your eyes are permanently luminescent; their pupils are slits now. Your skin has become much more gray, like Vaggie’s or Alastor’s. Gray and pale like Death. Your hair’s (h/c) has been replaced with a bright, vibrant, honey gold with amber and brunette and red all glinting through as the light runs over them. It reminds you of the fall. Of… </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>A doe</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A very vibrant doe, but the ears sprouting on your head are <em>just</em> like Alastor’s. And the tail protruding from your ass is a pretty good clue, too. It also matches your ears. Your eyes widen when you realize something else. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Two little antlers have begun to sprout from your head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But only… but only male deer can have those?!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your mind is spinning; you want to sob. You’re just short of doing so. Shaking, you step into the shower and examine your body. Your skin is still soft—human-like. It’s not like all of you is covered in the fur like protrusions sticking up from your head. Your tail is the only thing that seems out of place. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To your relief, your feet still have toes and you seem to have retained most of your human stature. You’re taller now, though. You’re not <em>that</em> much taller, but you’ve at least got that going for you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your antlers, as you reach up for them, feel incredibly small. They’re nothing to worry about, except, you’re a <em>doe. </em>Well, a doe demon. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Is there a proper name for what I am? Does Alastor know? And why do I have antlers? I’m not a buck! </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You find that you’re more confused than ever as you rinse off, your dream nearly forgotten. You half expected your dreams to be filled with some remnant of Alastor. He scared the shit out of you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You pace around your room, desperate to get out. His rules echo in your head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>But wasn’t that because I was still a human? </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your heart thumps. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Still, I don’t want to make Alastor, of all people, angry. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your hand reaches for the phone. You don’t want to call him. No. You’ll see him in a little less than an hour. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Realizing you’re still in a towel, you ground yourself back in reality. You throw on some clothes and then you reach for the phone again, dialing Vaggie’s extension. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When the phone picks up, you’re delighted to hear her voice. It’s groggy; you realize you’ve probably awakened her far earlier than she’d like to be. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m so sorry if I woke you up. I… I’ve had a bit of a transformation occur and I’m terrified of what Alastor is going to think. He’s supposed to take me shopping this morning; also, there’s a particular feature I have that is freaking me out a bit. What do I do?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m on my way. I’ll bring Charlie with me. No worries.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite sounding tired, her voice took on a tone of urgency that reassured you that you made the right call. You worried that if you kept pacing as you were now that you’d wear holes in the floor. You stopped to try and catch your breath. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You laugh at the thought that Niffty’s measurements are all wrong now. You wonder if that will postpone your shopping trip. You wished, for a moment, that Niffty were here. You could tell her that now and hide in your room a little while longer before Alastor got a look at what you’d become in the night. Those flashing nightmares of the swirling dials and your murderer getting up from the sand weren’t going away anytime soon. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To your frustration, your name still evades you as well. All these thoughts and more are almost ready to bowl you over when you hear Vaggie knock. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You open the door and both girls on the other side drop their jaws in utter shock. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s all you can think to reply with. Before you know it, you spot a yellow and pink blur in the hallway hacking at dust spots with a feather duster.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Now’s my chance. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Niffty?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie and Vaggie turn back to her with you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My measurements are a bit off now. My transformation occurred while I was asleep. You might want to tell Alastor our shopping trip needs to be postponed until—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nonsense!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She rushes over to you, her measuring tape a blur once more; with a snap, she’s back in front of you with a notebook with new numbers scratched inside. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You look so pretty! But… why do you have antlers?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They’re kinda different looking. I wonder what kind of deer you’re supposed to mimic. I bet Alastor will know! I’ll go ask him!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, Niffty!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before you can get another word in, she’s gone. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vaggie shakes her head.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know she works for him, right? Like, she’s not a hotel employee, technically. She only cleans here because that’s what he brought her here to do.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie nods, clearly a brighter morning person than her girlfriend. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You groan. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course. Now he’ll know even sooner than I wanted.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You motion for them to come in. You realize that you’re still shorter than Charlie; you’re about Vaggie’s height, making things far less awkward between you and them. You’re not looking up at them like they’re skyscrapers anymore. Instead, you feel like you’re on far more equal playing ground. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, why is he here at the hotel if he doesn’t believe in its mission?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He… he likes the entertainment of watching people fail.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vaggie seems bitter at stating this; only Charlie’s arms are enough to get a smile to come back to her face. They’re polar opposites, but adorable together. You can’t help but smile. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He kind of runs the place now. When we started this… it was supposed to be <em>my </em>project. And it still is. It’s just… with the bad publicity and the pushback from my dad, it was only natural that Alastor would take over. I just didn’t see it at the time. The mission is still the same but… I dunno. I just prefer to think positive. He’ll come around! I still have some clout around here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vaggie sighs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not as much as you used to.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You used to be his boss?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie shrugs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sort of. More like business partner. Now I’m like the CEO and he’s a really rich stockholder who pulls the strings and gets to decide the real direction the business takes. He never outright threatens me or Vaggie and I don’t think he ever would unless we really pissed him off. But he’s made it clear that he’s the one in charge now; I’m just not one to break into a fight over it as long as he’s still helping us.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your eyes almost bug out in shock. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>So that explains the weird dynamic with them when I first arrived. I wonder when that power shift took place. Was it all at once? Was it a slow thing? </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So he really is keeping the ruse of rehabilitation for entertainment.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They nod in unison. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okayyy… so, what happens now that I’m transformed?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie holds out her hands as though to stop you from going any further. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re not fully transformed until you figure out what your powers are. They might be great. They might be mundane. But, I do have to say I’m really excited to see your demon form itself has shown up. That doesn’t mean you’re not at risk, still.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Powers?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie nods. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Every demon has a power unique to them. Like Alastor and the radios and voodoo powers he has. I… I have powers. I just don’t particularly like to use them. Fire, brimstone, some other things that I don’t dare bother with. Vaggie is skilled with procuring weapons from thin air.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As if on cue, the angelic spear she had when you first met here was back in her hand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, so, how do I know when they show up?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You just will. Just be careful and watchful of everything around you. I’m gonna have to back up Alastor’s rules on this one. You’ll still need escorts and I still don’t want you roaming around or doing anything to put yourself in danger.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You cross your arms, prepared to argue and ask more questions but, unfortunately, Niffty’s message was received much faster than you would have ever hoped. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door bursts open. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, Hel-LO!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor freezes upon seeing you. His smile gets wider, but his eyes scream surprise and confusion. You clutch at your chest as though he might have come across you in the nude. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alastor! Do you mind giving her some privacy?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie is the one to speak up; you stare at her in surprise. There was a bit of authority in that tone of hers. Alastor dismisses it, choosing to rush forward and size you up. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d say the early bird gets the worm, but that would be a misclassification, doe-n’t you think?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He laughs at his own joke and you slap your face a bit harder than you mean with your hand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You need to be mindful of those claws, my dear. You might tear your face off.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His laugh is more like a bark at this statement and you stifle the urge to throttle him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was going to ask Charlie and Vaggie about what type of demon this would be? Like, in official terms? And why the hell I have antlers when I’m, ya know, female?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He eyes you up and down as though you’re little more than a toy to him. You squint. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Caribou.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Say what?’<br/>
</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you slap a bright red nose on that face of yours, you could pull a sleigh, darling!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your eyes widen. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re saying—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Female caribou have antlers! They’re a bit different from what you see on a white-tail deer or a mule deer. Like my antlers are fashioned after that of an elk!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But what do caribou have to do with reindeer?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor chuckles. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They are reindeer!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even Charlie and Vaggie giggle a little bit. Your face flushes red. You want to be anywhere but in this godforsaken hotel room in Hell and back in the land of the living. You’d take on that serial killer twenty times over to get out of this. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And your proper terminology, dear, would be <em>wendigo</em>.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>
“A what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wendigo! Did you not hear me the first time?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He taps his mic. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I swear, you say you’re working but it seems no one can hear me!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To your terror, the mic responds. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s their ears, sir, not me! I hear you just fine!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The light in the microphone’s eye dims a bit as it finishes its last sentence. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s a wendigo, you dork? That’s what I meant!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m afraid, though I am one, you’ll probably want to do some reading before you ask any questions. Luckily for you, I have plenty of books about them and I’m happy to lend you a few.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You reluctantly nod. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s in it for you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>
“What’s in it for me? Why, darling, I haven’t seen another wendigo down here in quite a while! I devoured most of them!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smiles more darkly now and you inch away. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Love me the taste of venison, yes ma’am!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ahaha, you have much to learn about the wendigo, it seems. But never you mind that, darling. Since you’re awake, we might as well head down to breakfast and out on the town!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look back to Vaggie and Charlie for support, but they seem just as dazed as you by Alastor’s sudden interruption. Charlie gives you a supportive smile but that’s it. Before you know it, you’re being whisked away by that damned red-clad demon again who, now, has even <em>more</em> reason to be interested in you. And, if you’re certain about what you heard, you’re now potentially on the menu. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You flash back to your first conversation with him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I could make a good gumbo out of you. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shudder, doing your best to put that poker face back on. For the first time, though, you notice something. He isn’t badgering you with conversation. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s completely silent. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew! </p>
<p>This was a long one; wanted to make up for yesterday's little blip. </p>
<p>Now excuse me while I cry since my school is now considering doing online classes for the fall. Ph.D. life is fun, y'all. ;-; So much fun.</p>
<p>Also, I realize that Viv hasn't been exactly explicit that he is a wendigo, but I'm choosing to go with it for the sake of some fun demon lore in later chapters. :) So please excuse this if you're on the fence about what he is.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Gift Horse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Breakfast came and went before you were ready. Much to your terror, Alastor’s strange decision to stop speaking carried out the whole time you ate. Instead, he watched you with that petrifying smile while he scarfed down more bacon that you’d ever seen on a plate, let alone disappear into someone’s mouth. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Does he ever stop eating?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Granted, you found that you were hungrier than you’d ever been in your life. It seemed to you that no matter how much food he put in front of you that you would never be satisfied. After about an hour, you finally gave in, still not entirely satisfied. You resign yourself to helping him with dishes again—the hard way. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But, this time, he chooses to call in someone else to do the dishes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Angel Dust!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whaddya want?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get in here,” Alastor commanded, a tone of annoyance lacing over that false smile of his. You were catching on fast; you wonder silently if Alastor knew this. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t believe you’ve met her yet, but this is our new guest. Before you pester her with questions, no, she doesn’t remember her name. I believe Niffty is going to help her sort out something to go by while we’re out shopping for her today. Needless to say, you need to do your part today. Dish duty.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel Dust groans. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re overwhelmed by how tall this feminine arachnid is. Pink stripes, pale white, fluffy body and the largest puff-like thing resembling breasts over his chest. You resist the urge to gawk openly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Like what ya see, toots? You aren’t my preferred clientele, but for a price you can—” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor slaps him over the head with his cane. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s enough of that, Angel. Our guest here doesn’t concern herself with such unpleasant behaviors, isn’t that right, <em>dear</em>?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes snap to yours and you nod, a smile reappearing on your face. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ya didn’t have to smack me like that, Al. If you wanted it rough, ya could have just said so.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You swear you hear Alastor’s radio sounds screech to a halt. He starts to look dangerous but Angel Dust brushes him off, moving into the kitchen to start doing dishes. You stifle a giggle when you realize that Alastor could do it all in a snap. You figure it’s pointless to ask. It’s clear to you that Alastor is anything but a fan of Angel Dust’s. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe later I can get to know toots, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel Dust calls this over his shoulder; you muster up some courage. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d love to get to know you. And Husker, too. And the other guests.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You smile at Alastor, mustering all the sweetness you can in your body. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll consider it,” he snips. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without another word, he grabs your hand and escorts you from the kitchen, seemingly relieved to be anywhere but the presence of that strange, freakishly tall arachnid. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You met Husker?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was with Vaggie. On the way to dinner the other day.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His smile softens; it occurs to you that he might’ve thought you’d broken his rules. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Dodged that bullet. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You wonder to yourself where your strong self went. The you that took down a serial killer single-handed. The you that put up a fight at everything that came your way. And, here you were taking orders from a wendigo in a red, pin-stripe suit like he owns you or something. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And, in a way, you wonder if he does. He’s in charge of the hotel. He determines if you live or die. He protects you in exchange for whatever entertainment he gets in watching you suffer… struggle. You’re his <em>entertainment</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You struggle with this internally; unbeknownst to you, your poker face is gone. When you reach the lobby, Alastor decides to do something about that. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Darling, what is bothering you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look up at him, frustrated more than ever with yourself for being an open book. After every careful move you make, you find yourself falling into his traps over and over and over again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t worry about it.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>
It’s the first time you’ve outright resisted him. You don’t want him to have all your cards. You don’t want him to know everything; at this point, you’re outright annoyed with him. Unbeknownst to you, you now have more than one part of your anatomy betraying you. Your ears are flat against your skull. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow, darling, I didn’t know you had that level of anger in you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then he pushes it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He puts a hand out and strokes your ears. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You move up and you swat his hand away. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course, that’s your first mistake of the morning. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Darling,” he purrs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes are dials again; the room becomes dark and, suddenly, it’s just you and the monster morphing in front of you.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t touch me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The voice is warped; you aren’t phased though. This time, you aren’t going to cower away. You aren’t going to let him have the upper hand all the time. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your eyes glow brighter; you can’t morph like him yet, but you stand your ground. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop treating me like your toy. I appreciate what you’re doing for me, but you can’t help but understand that I might be just the slightest bit pissed at you if you’re just doing this all for your entertainment. Damn it, <em>Al</em>, I heard how you took over the hotel. Took Charlie’s project. And you touched me first. Sheesh. Eat a Snickers, for Pete’s sake.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your brashness surprises you; you wonder how you haven’t been eaten alive yet, but you aren’t letting him see your fear anymore. Your ears are flattened still and you smile even wider, just like him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All at once, the static stops. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He blinks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is that what’s bothering you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now the guilt sets in. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look… I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. I know you’re protecting me. Feeding me. Taking care of me when I don’t even meet the criteria of someone who deserves to stay here. But, like, I don’t know….” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">An awkward silence sifts between you. You want to tear it. You wish he would say something. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before he can get a word in, a loud shriek followed by excited giggles comes tumbling down the stairs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Niffty. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As much as you want Alastor to respond, you’re relieved someone else is there to break up the tension between the two of you. How you’re still standing and not in Alastor’s pot for his next meal stewing away is beyond you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, there! Ready to go! I have a <em>ton</em> of boutiques I’d like to go to. Alastor, do you think we can visit my tailor? I really, really want a new dress!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Niffty blinks that one eye of hers like an excited child trying to negotiate with a parent. Alastor, who acts as though everything in the last five minutes was a work of fiction and <em>totally</em> didn’t happen, chuckles. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course, my dear. As long as our darling guest doesn’t mind!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your stomach churns. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He’s still going to help me even after I was rude. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But you’re too proud to show it. You can’t apologize now. He can’t just pet your ears like that. If you did the same, he would skewer you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But the angels and demons in your brain go to war. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Apologize. No. Apologize. No. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t mind,” you hear yourself say. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Apologize! NO!</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You find yourself getting a bit dizzy. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your ears are to the side now. Your smile is gone. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yep, I’m alright.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then you’d best be fully dressed before we depart!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You groan. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure thing.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your smile is back and Alastor looks pleased. Niffty looks like she might actually explode as you step outside. To your dismay, it’s even redder outside than inside the hotel. The “sun” is in full view and color is gone from the world. You are, perhaps, the most colorful blotch on the street with your golds and reds and yellows standing out against the dull backdrop around you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>I thought deer were supposed to be camouflaged, caribou or not</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You keep your smile plastered to your face and Alastor links arms with you. But not before leaning down so Niffty can crawl up his shoulder and ride piggyback. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Oh so it’s fine if she touches you?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You scoff to yourself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Whatever. Crazy radio deer demon. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Acting as though nothing is bothering you now, you make a pointed effort to keep up with Alastor as he pulls you along the streets of Pentagram City. It’s a longer walk than you expected to reach the boutiques that crowd the strange streets. All around you, you hear swears being hurled, bombs going off, people being robbed. And all the while Alastor stays calm. He’s like a ringmaster at a circus—a delicate figure of mystery that walks among the chaos and acts like it’s home. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To you, though… you’re finding yourself all the more disgusted with the place than ever. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Kill</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thought crosses your mind before you can stop it. You almost freeze. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake yourself a bit, pretending as though a shiver has gone down your spine.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I suppose you need a jacket? Maybe we should make a coat your first priority. It is January, after all.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Niffty’s words jolt you to a strange realization.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, Hell has seasons?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor laughs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Indeed.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake your head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Of course it does. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That doesn’t stop you from thinking back to earlier. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Kill? Why on earth would I think that? Is that some sort of demonic impulse?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look up at Alastor, trying not to make it obvious that you’re staring. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You said you had books on wendigos, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course! Is my collection something you’d like to borrow when you get back? You’ll have to go one at a time; I have due dates you must adhere to if you do borrow.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You nod. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s the turn around time?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A week.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sounds reasonable. I can do that.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good! And let me warn you, if you dog ear a page, I’ll make sure you never have ears of your own to hear with again!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He laughs; the sound of him makes demons everywhere screech and flee from his presence. You don’t blame them. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, girls. Here’s the first stop. I’ll wait outside. Niffty, tell them to put it on my tab like usual.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>His tab?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I thought you said—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Niffty drags you into the first boutique before you can challenge Alastor. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>His tab? What happened to the hotel’s tab?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You find your face even more flush with embarrassment. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But the sight of Niffty trying on everything she can and throwing piles of clothes on the counter with glee makes you forget that little detail. You find yourself laughing with her, though you’re not nearly as extravagant with your purchases. You get a light coat and a heavy one. A few shirts. Some pants. Many of them are, as you expected, right to your measurements. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why did you guys take my measurements?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, so we know which shops to go to! And Alastor wants you to go to this nice dress boutique last! We have balls and parties from time to time at the hotel and it’s important you have some high-end wear!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You freeze. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But your question stays in your head. You finish up with only a few items to your name when you leave. Niffty leaves with more bags than she can ever hope to carry. Alastor laughs at the sight of them when you emerge, snapping his fingers and undoubtedly returning them to the hotel. Niffty puts her arms out and he scoops her up. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He’s literally a dad. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You give him a small smile, clutching your own bag and making it clear you don’t want his help anymore than he’s offered. And, of course, he doesn’t listen as it, too, disappears from your hand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Next stop!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You feel yourself get even sicker than before. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>More?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor notices your discomfort and smiles. You aren’t going to get away without getting more and you know it. He won’t allow it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s going to be a long, long day. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the delay with this latest update! I had a midterm Wednesday; studies come first. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait! :3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Nausea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hours had passed by. For each shop you went to, it was a battle with Alastor to prevent him from getting you anything more. He was spoiling you; you hated it. Eventually, he grew frustrated with you and started following you into the stores. Anything your eyes fell on that you liked, he knew. You would glare at him, but it was to no avail. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finally, you reach your last boutique of the day. Of course, it has to be the worst. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>The dress shop. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Niffty wasn’t kidding. This place screams high end. The word Franklin was scratched out, leaving the sign as reading Rosie’s Emporium. It doesn’t give off the appearance of a dress shop, but you know that if Niffty says it is, then it is. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When you step inside, you’re immediately thrown off by the person you’re greeted with on the other side. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hello there, darling,” she coos. “My name is Rosie.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Where her eyes should be are two darkened holes; she looks like a prim and proper porcelain doll. Like Mary Poppins meets every horror movie ever that involves dolls. Still you don’t let this phase you. A day in the streets of Hell has hardened you; you hardly expect anything less of this place. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi. I wish I knew my name, but I don’t. But it’s nice to meet you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This causes Rosie to pause, giving you a firm look with a raised eyebrow to match. Before she can ask anything more of you, Alastor comes bursting in behind you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rosie, my dear! It’s so good to see you!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He squishes her in a very violent-looking hug. She grins, stifling a giggle as he pulls away to stare down at her with that deadly smile of his. A small churning starts in your stomach. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Am I sick?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You find that the nausea wears off after a few moments; the woman, Rosie, returns her attention to you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I suppose you’re the one here for a fitting, hm?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her voice is sweet, like honey; beneath it, though, is an edge that you recognize to be deadly. This is someone who is not to be messed with. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Note taken. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You nod your head, careful not to say anything more than necessary. Alastor’s eyes never leave you as she whisks you toward a dressing room. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, what—?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She pushes you inside, sizing you up. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Niffty’s measurements are precise, as usual. I’ll be right back with the selection Alastor requested, my dear.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With that, she leaves you standing in the dressing room. You’re mortified at the thought of undressing yourself; therefore, you opt to look at yourself in the mirror and try to shake yourself at the sight of the antler-wearing freak that’s supposed to be you that stares back. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before tears can form in your glowing eyes, Rosie returns with the first of Alastor’s selections. You were expecting something from the thirties; while this dress has a retro appeal, it is simply jaw-dropping. It is gold like that of a setting sun—something to accentuate your coloring far more than you ever could have hoped. It’s a trumpet style that will more than likely accentuate your curves and make you fit for a spotlight. You cower at the sight of it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I… that looks… it’s lovely, but….”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But what? Here,” she snaps her fingers, leaving you standing in the very same dress with a hairstyle to match its glory. You tremble as she pulls back the curtain, beckoning you forward to stand on the pedestal in the center of the room. Niffty is squeaking with glee at the sight of you; for a moment, you swear you see a bit of color appear in Alastor’s cheeks, but it quickly disappears even if it was there. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lovely! Just as I ordered, Rosie. You never fail to amaze me!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She bows, giggling at Alastor’s compliment. A bubbling starts back up in your stomach. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Nausea, again? What on earth is wrong with me?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake your head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now, we have a few more dresses; those have been set aside. It’s up to you—do you want to try them here? Or would you prefer to look at them in private?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her knowing glance shocks you. She was giving you an out. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think I’m a fan of surprises; you do lovely work and I have no doubt I’ll love the rest. Thank you, Rosie.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She smiles at your courteous response. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She’s lovely, Al. It’s a shame she isn’t called by anything.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Niffty giggles. <br/></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have a name idea for her!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look down and find that she’s wearing a rather puffy, yellow ball gown. It sparkles and shines, accentuating her in ways you didn’t think possible. You stifle a laugh. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do tell!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor leans in, his grin widening even more. You wonder if it might one day split his face. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Daisy.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You pause. <br/></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Daisy?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah! You’re innocent, but you grow and shine in even the darkest and most difficult of places. Some people might think daisies are weeds or a nuisance, but in fact, they’re a flower that chooses to grow anywhere. I know it’s not your real name, but at least you have something to be called while you figure it out, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her point is so deep and well-thought that you find that the wind has been knocked out of you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“… Yeah… wow, Niffty. That’s a really thoughtful name. Thank you,” you murmur. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor catches sight of the few tears that have caught in the brim of your eyelids. He cocks his head to the side, the urge to stretch a smile back on your face overwhelming. It’s clear he doesn’t like seeing you cry, so you stifle the urge and put your poker face back on. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think Daisy is a lovely name. A fellow citizen of Hell to share a name inspired by flowers with!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rosie breaks the silence and claps her hands together. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This one’s on the house, Al!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Absolutely not, Rosie. What’s your price?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not to worry! I insist you take these pieces. It’s always a pleasure to serve lovely patrons such as Daisy. And dear, feel free to stop by for a spot of tea from time to time. I’d simply adore getting to know you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rosie, as strange and uncertain as she makes you feel, also inspires you. She takes no shit from the Radio Demon. It’s clear that, in this case, he’s going to lose this battle. You wonder if maybe she can teach you how to win against him for future purposes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>If Alastor ever lets me out of the hotel by myself. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks, Rosie.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In a snap, you’re back in your old clothes and the dresses disappear. Undoubtedly to your closet. You forget to take note of how many you think there were in total. It wasn’t very many; you’re grateful for that. Any more generosity on the part of the crazy ass Radio Demon you’d come to know would send you over the edge. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re ever most welcome, dear. Now, as much as I’d like to continue our chit chat, I’m afraid I have some other business to deal with today. Alastor, dear, do stop by later!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course, darling!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your stomach does flips. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What in the world?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When you exit the shop, you’re still clutching your stomach as you watch Niffty climb back aboard the Alastor Express. Said Express notices you in your current state and, for a moment, his smile becomes smaller. He looks… <em>concerned.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you alright, my dear?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I just don’t feel all that well. Do you think we could go back to the hotel now? I’m spent.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He places your hand in his and, for a moment, the strange twist in your stomach subsides. You’re grateful for the reprieve as you make your way back down the street; the trip back doesn’t take nearly as long as the trip there. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When you open the door the hotel, you’re greeted by utter silence. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where are all the guests? What time is it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dinner! I suppose I neglected to take us to get food. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with you…” Alastor places a hand to his chin, examining you thoughtfully. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh… yeah… maybe.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your cheeks flush; your temperature is spiking, rapidly. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Or not.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before you can protest, he sets Niffty on the floor and sweeps you up in his arms. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll bring soup up to you in a moment. You need rest.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You mutter something like a “no” and he grins wider than ever. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You should know better than to resist me at this point, doe. I’m going to get my way. You cannot convince me otherwise.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your throat goes dry; the world begins to spin. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What’s wrong with me?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without thinking, you put your hands up and clutch him by his shoulders. You’re too delirious to see his eyes switch to dials for a moment—the teeth that were already so sharp get even sharper. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You can’t see him as his eyes soften at the sight of you in your delirious state. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No one but himself would know what you’d gotten away with. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You touched him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re vaguely aware of him setting you in your bed. You find the ceiling spinning in all directions. You hear your new radio cut on and the sound of soft jazz playing. Your rocking chair creaks back and forth; you know someone is watching you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">But you don’t know anything more than the comfort of your pillows. </span><br/><br/>Before you close your eyes, the flashing images of Rosie and Alastor hugging and being much too friendly for your liking plague you. </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You swear you can hear a soft chuckle and something like “Well, I’ll be….” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But that’s none of your business. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your eyes fall shut. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the meantime, Alastor’s smile becomes a bit distorted. He’s not leaving you in your present state. He knew that accepting gifts was difficult for you and found it entertaining, to say the least, to watch you squirm. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But jealousy? Is that what was eating at you? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And why?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shakes his head, enjoying the feeling of the cool wood of the rocking chair he’s claimed while he waits for you to wake. But, on this subject, he doesn’t plan to pester you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He, too, begins to doze. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The last thing he sees before he falls into his dreams is the way you spoke to Angel Dust. The way you talked about meeting Husker without him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His stomach churns. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But for now, he chooses to ignore it. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you all enjoy this chapter! :3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Daisies by the Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You’re surrounded by daises—they grow everywhere. From your skin, your hair, and from the ocean. You’re back at the beach. This time, you’re looking down at your body. You’re free from its rotting clutches. You frown. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>It still hasn’t been found. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Your killer, to your relief, doesn’t move. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You take a moment to breathe in the sound of peace and quiet. Only the rustling of leaves and the hustle and bustle of the ever moving sea are there to break the quiet. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>The daises are a bit strange to you, but you can only attribute it to finally having a name. Still, a part of you winces at not being able to remember your own. A thought strikes you. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You reach down to your corpse and search through your clothes. Your breath catches when you find it. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>A phone. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You can’t remember the passcode. You have an inkling that it’s probably your birthday, but that date eludes you even more than your own identity does. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You click the button to light the screen up, certain that you’re just as doomed as when you first started. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You freeze. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>There, on your screen, are a litany of messages addressed to… </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Y/n.”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You scrolled and scrolled and scrolled for what seemed like hours. You never bothered to make your messages private when they reached your home screen. No point. You had nothing to hide and it never left your side anyway. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You gave silent thanks to your living self. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You could see it this time. You click the phone so the screen returns to black. You have a choice now. Do you want to be called Y/n?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Your eyes fall back on the sea; it’s filled to the brim of the delicate white petals of the daises that seem determined to eat it alive. You think back to Niffty’s excited huffing and puffing and how long she spent picking that name for you. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You blink. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You don’t realize that, this whole time, you’ve been crying. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Now, dear, you know crying doesn’t suit a pretty face like yours.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You turn around, your heart suddenly thudding at a thousand miles a minute. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“What? Alastor? What are you doing here?”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He cocks his head, chuckling. He reaches out to wipe a tear from your cheek and you can’t pull away, despite your mad desire to start running. Then, you notice something. Daises have begun to flower all around his antlers. They form a flower crown. He attempts to flick them from his head, annoyance plastering its way through his smile. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You giggle. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Funny, hm? I don’t suppose you wouldn’t mind a shadow crown, then?”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Before you can protest, the shadow of a small alligator weaves itself—its live self—around your own antlers. The puffing noises it makes sound a little bit like a laser gun from a sci-fi movie. At this point, you’re laughing so hard you’re crying. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>The annoyance in Alastor’s eyes is replaced by pure amusement. You’re both laughing before you know it, any irritation at each other buried in the sands of your strange, flowery dream. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“What are you doing here?” You repeat yourself, intent upon getting an answer. He can’t escape you. Not here. There’s no eluding the truth when you’re in charge of the landscape.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“I’m not sure. I suppose your subconscious chose for me to be here.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He sighs, sitting down on the sand with so much grace it’s disgusting. You flop down beside him, not even attempting to try and match the poise that you witnessed. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“That’s weird. Does that include the other day when you possessed that body and chased me?”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Chased you? Darling, I never chase people. It’s pointless. I prefer when I can capture my victims without any fuss or muss. If you have that much desire to live that you run, then to me, you deserve to keep that life for that much longer.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>The statement is so deep and revealing that you’re left speechless. But only for a moment. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Alastor, why are you in Hell?”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>The question comes so quickly that you can’t even stop to think about how stupid it is. Part of you already knows the answer. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He smiles. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“I suppose your killer and I have something in common. Though, such barbaric methods of restraint aren’t really my style. I wouldn’t hide in wait like that. I preferred charming people. And it wasn’t for sexual release as it likely was for your… acquaintance….” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You blink.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Why?”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He turns to you, confusion apparent in those dark red eyes of his that glow a bit brighter every time you address him. You’ve been taking note of that; it’s funny to you that it happens even when you’re asleep. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Why not? I… I had my reasons when I was alive and I have them now. I don’t expect you to understand and I don’t know if I want you to. As much as daises are resilient… they are also delicate.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He holds one in his hands and considers it for a moment before blowing it so that it flutters along the sea breeze, lost to time and memory. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“I see. Maybe you can tell me someday? I understand if you aren’t ready now, but, I’m sure I’ll be here in Hell for a long time. You, too. If we’re still friends I’d love to try to understand someday.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He laughs, a bit of bitterness in his tone. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Darling, no one stays friends with me for long.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“What about Niffty?”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“She, my dear, is about as close to a daughter as I’ll ever have. And I don’t burden her with my personal problems. But real friendship? No… no that doesn’t happen for me here.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“What about Rosie?”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>The question comes out a bit more… aggressively… than you meant. You try to hide that you’re jealous; once again, he grants you the fake ignorance that he did as you fell asleep. But he knows. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“She’s an acquaintance, darling. I’ve no more feelings for her than someone might in a business exchange. All that you saw today was a part of an act. She has business to attend to. I have business to attend to. We help each other out. But she’s a powerful overlord just as I am. What good would it do me to trust her with genuine secrets? Sure, I’m fond of her, but in Hell, you keep everyone close.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You scoff. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“I don’t know. I think you’re friends. I think you like her.”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He’s looking at you again and you blush. More daises appear along your skin and you hurriedly try to swipe them off. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“And, even if you don’t think you can trust her, you can trust me. I’ll be your friend.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>That laugh of his is frightening at this statement. It’s like he’s burying any emotions that he might have in fake happiness. You worry for him. It’s evident on your face, which he clutches in his claws as gently as he might hold blown glass. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“You wouldn’t want to get yourself hurt.”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>For a moment, you wonder if that smile of his is going to disappear. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>And, in that moment, you grow brave. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“I mean it Alastor.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You grab his hand, ignoring the radio dials that start to form in his eyes. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“I want to be your friend. You shouldn’t have to be alone. No one should. I know I’ve been an asshole these last few days. A scared little… doe. But I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You can be mad at me all you want for holding your hand, but, I just want you to know that you can come to me for anything. I like Charlie and Vaggie, but you’ve really gone out of your way to look out for me. Entertainment or not, thank you.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Before you can stop yourself, you throw your arms around him in a hug. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>And then you’re crying again. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You don’t see his radio dials disappear. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>But what you do notice is the way his arms come around your shoulders and rub your back. The sound of him whispering in your ear. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“It’s okay, darling.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“No, it’s not. I don’t know what to think of this place or how to handle any of this and I don’t know why you’re helping me and…” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You’re rambling nonsense at this point and he just holds you until you collect yourself. He doesn’t shove you off or make you go. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“You know, some might call you a fool for trusting me like this.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You laugh.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“I died being as safe as I possibly could. In the most horrific manner I could have imagined for myself. And look where that got me? And something tells me that, if you were going to hurt me, you would’ve done it by now.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He squeezes you a bit tighter, as though he’s afraid you might slip away. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“I’d be pleased if you were friends with me, Y/n.” </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Actually, Alastor, I think I’m fine if my real name stays between us. Just call me Daisy. Niffty worked so hard on that name and I don’t think I want my old name to be mine anymore. I’m a new person, after all.”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You smile, falling victim to the sound of some beautiful music playing in the background somewhere. Undoubtedly from him, you realize. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You don’t let go. You can’t let go. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>You know this isn’t real. None of it is. You wish you had the guts to tell him this in person.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>But for now, you dream on.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">~*~ </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor opens his eyes; he studies your still form and can’t help but grin a bit wider at the sight of the small smile that perks up on your lips. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To you, that dream is nonsense. An apparition is holding you. Not him. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But to him, it’s real. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What a gentle little doe,” he whispers in the darkness. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then he shakes himself. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What in the nine circles is happening to me?”</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He clutches at his chest, annoyed by the way his heart flutters as he looks down at you. He grits his teeth, standing to take his leave. The rocking chair creaks a little louder than he meant to, but before you can open your eyes, he’s gone. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shorter chapter, but, I hope you enjoy nonetheless!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Mischief in the Kitchen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The lovely Cereza101 has created a playlist for Awakened; it is still in progress, but I'm linking it here and dubbing it the official playlist for this fanfiction! Go give it a listen! It's awesome! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7731hZHLp9e66Y9RLoqY2D?si=LJIg9MeWRe2ZcVGu5PySNg</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A week has passed since your… episode. When you woke up from that dream, you were disappointed that, truly, it was only a dream. In fact, Alastor was gone when you woke up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Off on another hunting trip. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You knew it would be a while before he returned. At the current moment, you’re with Vaggie and Angel Dust in the kitchen. You know very well how Alastor wants things organized and, though you can’t believe it, you’re grateful that he showed you how things were supposed to be arranged. You can’t imagine how angry he would be to return to a chaotic mess. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re plating spaghetti for over fifty people; your arm hurts from ladling serving after serving. You look up and glare at Angel Dust who is, at the moment, yawning while flipping through a less-than-flattering magazine. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Disgusting</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You wish he would take that thing and go read it somewhere private. You understand now why Alastor finds him so annoying. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At the mere thought of him, you’re returned to that dream. The smell of his suit and the feeling of his soft hair…. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake yourself, finishing up with your current task. In a way, you’ve become sort of like a second-hand employee around the place. You help Niffty here and there with cleaning, you help the girls come up with schemes on how to better advertise the hotel, and you’ve taken it upon yourself to personally reorganize the public library. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your hands are itching to see Alastor’s collection on wendigos, but you don’t dare go looking for them yourself. Once dinner is over, you plan to make a trip back up to that grand room and have a look around for anything the hotel might have in its more accessible collection. Just as you finish with the last plate, you look up to find yourself eye to eye with Vaggie. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You alright, hon? You seem stressed.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake your head, struggling to find words to respond with. It’s been rough on you. They still don’t know why you passed out; your more violent thoughts have resurfaced more than once. It’s taken everything in you not to slaughter everything and everyone in your path. It frightens you, to say the least. You haven’t told anyone and you don’t plan to now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just hungry, that’s all. Can’t wait to get some grub myself, I guess.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You smirk at her before hurriedly going putting the last plate on the food cart that she’s about to wheel out. Even though Alastor isn’t here, his rule still stands about meeting guests before your powers arrive. You groan inwardly at being trapped like an animal in a cage, but you don’t dare say anything about it anymore. You felt bad for snapping at Alastor as it was. There was no sense in getting yourself into more embarrassing situations. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You make yourself a plate of spaghetti and sit down at the kitchen table to eat. It’s piled as high as you can make it go with what’s leftover from serving the other guests. Your stomach is still crying for satisfaction even after you finish. You want to start sobbing. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Will it ever be enough?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake your head, shuffling over to the sink to start washing dishes as they come in. Angel Dust remains seated on the counter, completely unconcerned with the fact that you’re doing everything yourself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I have half a mind to murder that spider.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You grumble as you put things away in record time. Now that you know the system, washing and putting away dishes doesn’t take nearly as long. Everything’s going super well despite your irritation with Angel Dust. He doesn’t talk to you much which, to you, is a blessing. You don’t think you can handle any of his innuendos or advances. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Angel, I need you to step up and do something to help Daisy.” <br/></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The command comes from Charlie, who’s just re-entered the kitchen. She looks worn from trying to run the place without Alastor around to help. She really isn’t suited for the stricter side of business. She’d rather be all smiles and rainbows and happy. But that’s not how a business runs. Especially not in Hell. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel Dust scoffs, setting his lewd magazine aside. He comes beside you and starts to pick up a dish. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re growing more irritated by the minute. He’s doing it all wrong. He’s throwing plates around like they’re confetti; you have half a mind to beat him over the head with a cast iron skillet. Seeing your twisted face, he laughs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow, toots, I didn’t take you for the type to be so protective of Alastor’s kitchen. I mean, I get it. I’d be pretty protective over my sugar daddy’s stuff if he was that nice to me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You freeze. You know that, if Alastor were there, a record scratch would have accompanied that comment. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s not my sugar daddy,” you hiss through gritted teeth. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let’s see, he buys you clothes, takes care of you, gives you a room even when you’re not attempting to be redeemed… seems like a sugar daddy to me,” Angel Dust laughs. He’s obviously delighted by the flush of red that’s spanned your cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before he can respond, he’s slammed up against the wall. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Except, there’s a problem. You never touched him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, toots! Lemme go! I was just joking around!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s squirming, but you’re not letting go. No. Not this time. He’s going to learn to stuff that mouth of his. You eye the garlic sitting on the counter from making garlic bread along with the spaghetti from earlier and your face curls into a wicked smile. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why don’t you have a taste of the disgusting crap you spew out all the time, huh?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without thinking, you levitate the garlic from the counter and it hurls itself at Angel Dust, stuffing his mouth with it. With a flick of your wrist, you’re forcing him to chew it. His eyes are watering and you’re laughing. Like a maniac. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Daisy, let him go!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie’s scream is what shakes you from your angry stupor. In an instant, Angel Dust is off the wall and spitting up garlic on the floor. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To your surprise, you hear Vaggie laughing. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, that was pretty good,” she chortles. Vaggie comes up to you, smiling. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Try to be more careful. Looks like your powers are here. But <em>that</em> was amazing.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Vaggie!” Charlie scolds. But even she’s starting to laugh. And then you’re laughing, trying to hide the terror that you’re now reeling with. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What did I just do? I really need those books. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look at the pile of dishes remaining; you picture where they’re supposed to go and, for the first time, you try something. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And, with a snap of your fingers, they disappear to their proper places. This act leaves everyone stunned. </span>
</p>
<p class="p4"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Looks like your powers are here, darling!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You all whirl around to see Alastor standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He looks as collected as ever, that smile plastered on his face. You know the chances of it disappearing are about as high as you going to heaven. You smile sheepishly at him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He notices Angel cleaning up the spit up remains of the garlic you choked him with. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I see you gave our effeminate spider friend a taste of his own medicine, hmm?” Alastor taunts. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shrug. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What can I say? Laziness isn’t allowed in this kitchen, now is it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor laughs, but the spark in his eye screams danger. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What did I just get myself into?</em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Curiosity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alastor's POV after he gets back from his hunting trip. </p><p>Y/n has powers and is acting a little... odd...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re perplexed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>The sight of the young demon—Daisy—smiling at you makes your breath catch for a moment. She has the kitchen in a state of complete, stunned silence. Something you pride yourself in being capable of producing simply from the fear you radiate in people’s very souls when you pass by. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Is this what she makes them feel, too? </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your “hunting trip,” of course, was really a means to keep your mind from focusing too much on the little creature. Granted, she wasn’t as little after her transformation, but to you, she would always be little. Something delicate. Something to be… <em>protected</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You aren’t sure why you’re drawn to her, but you can’t help but feel that it’s your very duty to make sure not a hair on her precious head is harmed. The sight of those little antlers pulls your smile a bit wider. You’re too composed to let anyone see you shake yourself; granted, you’re certain no one is any the wiser that you’re so confused about Daisy in the first place. Why should you be? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re <em>Alastor</em>. You have no reason to be attached to any one particular creature here in Hell. Niffty, though she is like your child, is capable of keeping her own. You don’t have to look after her. You’ve taught her well that she can snap her fingers and destroy anyone should they cross her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But then there’s <em>you</em>. Daisy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Y/n.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You keep that one buried deep within your memory. You like that she’s none the wiser that her dream was, in fact, real. The memory of how she held you is enough to make you want to hide in a closet somewhere and bleach your skin of the memory. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How could you have let her get away with such a transgression? Touching you was forbidden. <em>Is</em> forbidden. She is not an exception. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s no reason for her to believe that she is, either. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But right now, she finds another reason to amuse you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Her powers are here. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re practically alive with static as you approach the little wendigo, sneering down at her, static enveloping the room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re correct, Darling,” you sneer. “Laziness is not allowed in the kitchen; I commend your decision to punish the effeminate spider for slacking on his duties. I do wish you would have waited for that fun little demonstration—I wish I could have witnessed it all. I’m sure the others will fill me in on how <em>spectacular</em> it must have been.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Y/n shies away from you as you pat her on the head as though she’s little more than a child. An associate. An underling. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You certainly don’t see her that way, but it’s best if she believes it. For both of you. You aren’t particularly bothered with how it makes her feel or how she might be hurt. Right now, you need to work on putting those boundaries you pride yourself in back up when you’re around her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, Angel Dust, there’s not much left to be done in the kitchen, so why don’t you come help Niffty by cleaning a few of the unoccupied rooms? We might have new guests tomorrow, you know!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie’s interruption is just what you were hoping for. You notice the moth demon glare at you as the others leave the room; you know she’s on to you. Perhaps she’s seen more than you’d care for anyone to witness. She knows you’re furious with Y/n. Why wouldn’t you be? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>It’s not her fault. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thought is an unwelcome intrusion; you brush it away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just what do you think you were doing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Daisy ducks down, blushing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was just protecting the kitchen. I didn’t know I could do that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She shuffles her feet, trying her best to hide in her own shadows. For a moment, you want to scold her for being so apologetic. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>It’s not her fault. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That thought again. How you hate remorse. Is that what that is?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How was your hunting trip?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Changing the subject isn’t going to get us past this little… fiasco… dear.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She looks down, ashamed of herself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Why do this to her?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You sneer wider in the hopes that it makes you look even more intimidating. You don’t care for that part of yourself. It’s been gone for eons. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her colorful locks are enough to make you pause though. You missed them while you were out. You long to run your fingers through them again like in the dream. But such pleasantries were for those <em>weaker</em> than him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m prepared to overlook this little stunt so long as you promise to do magic only in front of me until we figure out what it is that you can <em>do</em> and what your limitations are. You don’t want people to see your full hand before you even know how to play the game, Darling.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Y/n seems relieved at that. A part of you—<em>that</em> part of you, lets you go for now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I understand. I just didn’t know. I didn’t even realize I could do those things. The first part kinda happened without me knowing I could. It was tied in with how angry I felt. How can I prevent those things from happening? Just not have emotions?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’s pushing back; a part of you is stunned. She starts out sounding like she really aims to please or is genuinely sorry and then something within her awakens. She’s angry; you realize you might be in for a show now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alastor, I have never <em>once</em> done anything to purposefully cross you. I have followed every rule you’ve set to the letter. Why? Who the Hell knows except you’ve been kind to me and been keeping me safe. But now that I’m in demon form and have powers, why do I need to stay here and take shit from you if all you’re going to do is sneer at me, threaten me, and treat me like I’m some kind of plaything? I have feelings, you know. And if you’re not going to respect those, I’m going to stop listening to you. You can have all the shit you bought me back if this is how it’s going to be.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your eyes widen; your static becomes louder. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you speaking out against me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She plants her feet. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I am. I don’t give a damn at this point; I don’t expect you to understand. You know, I thought we were friends. I thought you cared. I stayed at this hotel because it was a safe haven and because I don’t have anyone outside those doors. But if you’re going to start acting like a threat then I’m going to start treating you like one. You’re <em>not</em> my dad. You’re not my sugar daddy. You’re not my husband, boyfriend, or romantic partner of any kind. And even if you were, that gives you <em>no right</em> to monopolize me. I don’t belong to you. I haven’t struck any deals that surrender my soul to you. I haven’t pledged my eternal allegiance to you. I thought you were doing all those things for me because you cared; honestly, it made me really uncomfortable.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’s crying now. Rambling. Falling apart. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll just leave. I don’t deserve to be treated this way when all I’m doing is trying to figure out who I am and how I work. Do you know how many horrible <em>urges</em> I’ve had to kill people since this transformation? How out of whack I feel? I can’t make friends; I bonded with you because you treated me so kindly and this is the thanks I get for sticking up for your kitchen rules?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Urges to kill people?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your ears perk up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course, you’re probably more interested in the fact that I want to slaughter people. Well, guess what, <em>bucko</em>, it isn’t going to happen. I won’t let it. I can do research on my own, with or without your collection. Don’t you <em>ever</em> come in here and talk to me like that again and demand I only use my powers in front of you. I’ll go tell the whole of Hell that I’ve just discovered them rather than do <em>anything</em> you say if you <em>ever</em> talk to me like that again. Radio Demon or not, I don’t give a shit.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Daisy is heaving, her chest pumping up and down fast as she attempts to catch her breath. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Daisy.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You finally find the room to interject. Strangely, you’re more concerned than angry. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What is this creature doing to me? Why haven’t I slaughtered it yet?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t you <em>Daisy </em>me. I’m leaving.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She whirls on her heel, marching out of the kitchen. You don’t stop her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You don’t see the tears start to fall even harder. You don’t hear her sobs from her room upstairs. Those are all nonsense. You can’t possibly hear her from that far away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But something calls you upstairs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You find her frantically trying to push her radio out of her room. She’s crying too hard to move it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Daisy, stop.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why? I just made a fool of myself and chewed you out and stood my ground but let it get the better of me and I just <em>can’t</em> figure anything out anymore! I’ve gone insane!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Daisy, transformations take a lot out of a person. I only want you to use your powers in front of me because it can take a lot out of you to use them for the first time. I don’t want someone to see that and use it to harm you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, and did <em>you </em>have that problem when you first got here?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You freeze. Memories play back before you can stop them. No one’s bothered to ask you <em>that </em>question. Or any questions, really. They just know to fear you. You’re the Radio Demon and that’s that. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Daisy, I assure you that my arrival here was anything but smooth. I didn’t become an overlord overnight, despite what people might say. Well, once I honed my powers I did. But I had to figure out what they were first. Did I come into them faster than you? Yes. Why? Lucifer knows, but time is no indicator of one’s success here in Hell.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Why are you telling her all this? She’s not an overlord, nor is she destined to be one.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you haven’t offended me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Lies</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Keep your things and, please, don’t leave. I didn’t mean for you to think that I would treat you in such a way. I thought we settled that before I took you shopping?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She winces, sliding to the floor and leaning her head against the radio you bought her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry,” she whispers. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sighing, you keep your smile but let it drop a bit. No sense in being intimidating now. You’re starting to understand why she’s so frantic. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Darling, how has this past week been?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You slide down to sit next to her, putting an arm around her shoulder. She leans in to hide in your chest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For once, there’s no static or radio dials in response. You remain composed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What happened to “no one touches me?”</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thought disappears when Y/n looks up at you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m so hungry. And scared. And angry. I want to shred things apart and hide away in this room forever. I had a weird dream before you left and I’ve been trying to fit the pieces of my life back together ever since. I wanted to read those books you said I could but I couldn’t bring myself to go into your library—I don’t even know where your room is. I just… I just….” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She leans into you even more; she’s slumping. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And she’s gone. Passed out. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Hunger pains</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re going to have to learn to hunt, soon,” you whisper. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your fingers are twirling through her hair. Not even the blood from your latest victims felt so good to the touch. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A frightening thought passes through your mind. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What happens if I can’t get these thoughts and feelings to go away?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re so disturbed that you don’t think twice before hoisting her up and putting her in her bed. You tuck her in, careful that she is positioned comfortably. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once you’re certain she’s in a deep sleep, you flee from the room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Is it too early for another hunting trip?</em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm so sorry for the delay, guys! I have a final exam tomorrow and my study schedule has been SUPER hectic. I'm still dedicated to this story, though, so stay tuned for more! Updates will be slower than usual until my last final concludes next Monday, so I apologize in advance. I didn't think it would be this long before I'd post an update. </p><p>Thanks for all the continued love and support during this time; stay safe and well everyone!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. To Get Lost in a Book</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Huge plot twists coming; way longer chapter than usual. Hope you all enjoy!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You awake and find yourself alone again. You groan, pain consuming your body as your stomach twists. There’s no fighting it now; you’re going downstairs to that damned kitchen with or without Alastor’s permission or an escort. As much as you regret having chewed him out, there was a reason for your outburst. You can defend yourself now—a snap of the fingers is all it seems to take. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You roll out from under the covers and make your way to your closet, sifting through various outfits before settling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. You never liked lavish or anything that made you stand out. Blending to the background was your preferred method of appearance. Alastor seemed disappointed at what you chose when you went out; you can’t help but wonder if he was hoping to find a like-mind—someone who also dressed for every occasion as though they were the master of a five-star circus full of wonders both horrible and unimaginably beautiful. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That was the vibe Alastor gave you whenever he entered a room. You knew the gruesome truth lay just beneath the surface of that deadly smile of his, but his deceit was well-woven. Any unsuspecting denizen of Hell would fall prey to his shake of the hand and deals would be sealed before a person had a chance at making their own way. You half wonder why you managed to escape any potential trickery in that direction. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But right now, your focus is entirely on your hunger. You’re starting to blur in and out of consciousness. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What is going on with me?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You stumble from your room; at this point, the way to the kitchen is a trip on autopilot. Your feet land you through the doorway before anyone can stop you. For once, Alastor isn’t hovering over a stove or sifting through cabinets to prepare the hotel’s next meal. All the better. You aren’t too keen on being caught without a chaperone at this point. You knew that, for some reason, he took a liking to you and was stubborn when it came to “sharing” you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>As if he can monopolize me. He doesn’t own me.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your eyes brim with tears at the sight of such a dismally empty refrigerator. Shopping day is tomorrow; you can’t wait that long. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You start frantically opening every cabinet door, the pantry, the fridge—anything. Anything in the hopes of finding reprieve. You slap some horrible monstrosity together and sit down at the kitchen table. It’s a quadruple-decker sandwich with meat, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes… your stomach howls. You don’t have time to sit and admire its beauty. Right now, it needs to disappear. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To your surprise, it’s gone within seconds. You’re afraid you’ll start to swell out like a grape if you keep eating like this but, to your amazement, your figure stays lithe and untouched by the calories you ingest by the thousands every day. You lower your head in shame as your stomach still growls, never satisfied. You know the hotel’s food bill has to be skyrocketing because of this. You eat enough to satisfy the plates of at least ten of the guests residing at the Hazbin Hotel at the current moment. You may not see them, but you don’t want to be the reason they go without. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You lower your head to the kitchen table, hiding the tears that are welling up in your eyes. That’s cut short at the sound of the door opening. You sit up straight, expecting for it to be Alastor. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, you’re both relieved and annoyed at the sight of a very sleepy Angel Dust. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the hell, toots, it’s like five in the morning! What are you doing down here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was hungry, that’s all.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel Dust flips his hair back, stopping to consider you more carefully. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can see why Smiles likes you so much, but to let you get away with eating off schedule? He’s gonna flip if he finds you sneaking food before meal time…” Angel smirks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know, weren’t you the one to say that there shouldn’t be any misbehaving in the kitchen?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His mocking tone is on the verge of setting you off. But you remain vigilant. You want to make friends with everyone here; it’s just taking a lot out of you to tolerate his jabs and crude humor. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Angel, why the hell do you even care?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I dunno. Any time I sneak food, Smiles zips my mouth shut with his voodoo or whatever and makes me leave. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for what I said to him when he first showed up here.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You cock your head to the side, still too hungry to speak more than a few words. Your stomach is churning. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What—did you say?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That I could suck his dick. He asked me what I can do for the hotel and that’s what I offered. Those services would normally cost a fortune; now he treats me like some common whore!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You roll your eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How have you talked to him since?” You ask through gritted teeth. Your antlers are spiraling outwards. You don’t know what’s happening to you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I… I mean I flirt and stuff. It’s just my nature. I mean, who wouldn’t want a piece of this?” Angel grabs at his breast-like fluff and jiggles it to further his point. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For once, it doesn’t bother you. It occurs to you that Angel just might be that daft. Or desperate for approval. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I would suggest that you stop flirting with him and try just talking to him like a normal person. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so… so…” You can’t finish. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re clutching the table for support when you hear the kitchen door open again. The tell-tale clack of dress shoes tells you that you’ve been caught. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sneaking snacks from the kitchen, are we?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You can’t look up at him. Not now. Not when the world is turning faster than your head can follow. Your eyes are fully dilated. Even Angel, the blurred version of him, looks concerned. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Toots, you doing alright?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You hold up your thumb, trying to put it right side up, but you can’t. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y-yep!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, no you’re not alright. Do you need more food?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel opens the fridge and practically shrieks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where’s all the food?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Maybe that sandwich was bigger than I thought?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks back at the plate in front of you and the lightbulb flicks on. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did you eat everything?!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“N-not… not every—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You slide back into the kitchen chair, fully aware that your view of Angel Dust is now blocked by the red pinstriped terror that’s consumed your life. Why you find the sight comforting is beyond you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Help,” you whisper. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You wait for it. Yelling. Scolding. Reminders that you’re <em>his</em> even though you never agreed to such an arrangement. But, instead, you’re greeted by a pair of long arms slipping beneath you to cradle you to his chest. Your head lolls as though it’s been snapped. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come on, darling.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Smiles, is she gonna be alright?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sound of concern in Angel’s voice brings tears to your eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry, Angel. I’m sorry about the garlic. We can be friends,” you choke. “I don’t want to be mean to people.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You hide yourself deeper into Alastor’s chest; the move is not lost on Angel who raises an eyebrow at the Radio Demon. He grins with the most venom he can muster, but the damage is done. The effeminate spider knows he’s gone weak because of you. Even if you’re none the wiser.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t realize you—” Angel starts, a snicker following behind his words. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor silences Angel before he can say anything more. He’ll pry him later about what this young woman could possibly have done to him to make him feel this way. Magic? She’s too new at it. Manipulation? Could she really be a master manipulator? It makes him angrier than he can fathom. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stares down at you with murderous intent, but it’s lost when he sees the tears streaming from your eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think it’s about time we start going through those books, love. I have a potion upstairs in my room that might help with this.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor smooths back your hair and carries you from the kitchen, leaving Angel staring wide-eyed and with the juiciest gossip ever to hit Hazbin Hotel. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait till the girls hear about this one!” Angel beams. His eyes return to the empty fridge, his happiness quickly replaced with despair. “What the hell are we supposed to eat around here?!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the meantime, Alastor somehow manages to teleport you both to his room. You’re too disoriented to see anything properly. It’s neat. Much neater than even yours. It almost looks like it hasn’t been lived in at all. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You hear him humming as he sorts through his books; before you, a vial appears. It’s full of something dark red. When you pop the cork, the smell gives it away. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Absolutely not,” you begin to protest. “I am not drinking blood. Do I look like a vampire to you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor laughs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, but you look like a wendigo, little one. And if you don’t drink it voluntarily, I am not against forcing it down your throat.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He says it without so much as a change in the tempo of his voice. It remains happy—dangerously so. If you were more aware, you would see that you’re the one causing him to come so close to the edge of snapping. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Drink it,” he commands. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The vertigo becomes too much; to your horror, you feel compelled to obey. And so you do. Down the vial goes; it’s gone in seconds. At first, it does nothing. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What was that supposed to do?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll see,” he hums. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know what you’re—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You lurch. Suddenly, the world stops spinning. The world settles. You’re back and you see, for the first time, that you’re in a room that smells like a swamp. The fog in the air gives it that mysterious air. There’s no water or trees or gators, but everything about the atmosphere gives the room that kind of vibe. You look over to see a massive, king-size bed with beautiful, ruby-red upholstery. Fit for a king, indeed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All along the walls are marvelous bookshelves filled with tomes you’re sure are filled with the most horrid of spells and wonderful fairytales. It would be a mistake to think Alastor wasn’t capable of enjoying both. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes catch yours as they scan the walls. He’s frustrated by how much you’re taking in. He can see it in your face. You’re connecting the dots to the constellations he’s done so much work in blotting out from the sky. He can’t quite figure out <em>why</em> he’s still helping you when you’ve caused him so much pain. So much confusion. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Little doe, stop putting your nose where it <em>doe</em>sn’t belong.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You blush, realizing he knew what you were doing. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, I’ve always tried to get to know people by their bookshelves. Habit.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shrug it off as though it’s nothing, but the static filling the air tells you that you’ve touched a nerve. You stiffen in the chair he’s set you in. Despite the plushness of the cushion and backing, it suddenly feels as though you’re sitting on cold steel in an interrogation room. Your arms and legs might as well have been strapped to the damned thing. You can’t move. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll make an exchange with you, little Daisy. You tell me what it is you’re doing to me, and I’ll let you read these books for even longer than a week. I’ll give you set times where you can come in and read whatever it is you want. But first, you have to tell me what it is you’re <em>doing to me.</em>” He hisses it again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This isn’t a deal. An exchange, even. It’s a command with mercy tied to the strings. The problem?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I… I don’t know what you mean?”<br/></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He whirls around, a stack of books in his clawed hands that grow sharper at the sight of you. His antlers are growing—massively. He becomes the very image of violence and chaos right before your eyes. Before you can react, this hissing, snarling, distorted version of Alastor has you pinned to the chair, his teeth dripping with hunger and rage.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Spill your secrets.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shudder, shrinking deeper into yourself in an attempt to pry yourself free. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s going to shred you apart in his own room. You let him take you with him because he promised to help. He was supposed to let you read up on wendigos and understand who you are. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alastor,” you plead. “I really don’t know what I’m doing to you. What do you think I’m doing to you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The monstrous form of him cocks its head to the side as though it might actually be considering your words. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You slide from the chair to the floor, hoping that you might be able to ooze through the floorboards and make it to a different level of the hotel. You want to flee. Go anywhere but here. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your ears flatten against your head and, despite having held your resolve for this long, you can’t anymore. It shatters. And you’re crying again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>“Please don’t hurt me. I don’t know what I’ve done to hurt you, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been an ungrateful brat. I’m sorry. I just don’t understand why you’re helping me so much when you have nothing to gain from it.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a hurried rush of whispers laced with panic and confusion. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please, Alastor. I’ll just leave. I’ll just leave the hotel. You don’t have to help me if you don’t want me here anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The monster follows you to the ground, shadows curling all around you.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re never leaving me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You swallow.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t let you leave. You’re <em>mine</em>.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You hiss. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Since. <em>When</em>?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before you can stop him, those razor sharp teeth of his bury themselves in your neck. Blazing hot pain sears throughout your body; your veins turn completely black. You pry at him to get him off, but he won’t stop. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your mind is a million different versions of nightmares at the memory of what he said. He <em>eats</em> other wendigos. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You want to stay strong, but you’re sobbing. You’re grabbing onto him in a pitiful attempt to appeal to whatever logical side of him there might be left. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And suddenly, the thunderstorm of terror stops. His teeth aren’t buried in your neck anymore. His smile is still there, but his eyes are filled with a fear all their own. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What—what have I done?” He whispers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re still curled on the floor; he’s still sitting next to you. Completely normal now, but when he comes near you, you flatten yourself back on the floorboards and push him away. You slap his hands when they try to smooth your hair. You don’t want him touching you anymore. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get away.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m afraid I can’t, darling,” he says, sorrow being the only emotion you can detect in his words. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shoot up, staring at him with all the fire and brimstone you can muster in those beautiful, luminescent eyes of yours. They’re full of fury and danger now.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What was that all about?” You shriek. “What in the nine circles did I do to deserve that? Is this because I stood up for myself?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He opens his mouth to answer, but you’re not letting him have even a single inch. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You let me have a book; I’m gonna read it. I’m gonna sit here and read it and you’re gonna shut your trap. I don’t want your help if you’re gonna terrorize me like I’m some kinda sack of shit toy for you to play with!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re screaming now. The whole hotel might hear you at this point and you don’t care. Let them hear. They don’t care anyway. They let him get away with damn near everything with you. He’s in charge. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Not of me, he’s not! </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You grab one of the books he was reading. You start flipping through it; the words begin to calm you. Much to your relief, he sits on the floor right where you left him. Alastor seems as though he’s in a daze. He’s muttering things to himself but you don’t listen. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re able to read much faster in Hell than you were on Earth. And that, in itself, is a curse. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Two chapters in, and you slam the book shut. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you <em>mean</em> I’ll only be satisfied if I eat flesh?!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t answer you, that smile dangerous and paper thin. You shake the book in his direction; his eyes are glassy. They meet yours with something akin to nervousness in them. Like he doesn’t know what to tell you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Read the last chapter,” he murmurs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You flip to it, though you’re not sure why you’re still letting him have the reins on what you should learn or do first. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You start reading it; a few pages in, and your hand flies to your neck. You start screaming. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! No! NO!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You run to his bathroom, flicking on the light and staring at the mark he left in your flesh. Two antlers shaped like his—dark and inky—are burned into your skin. You run back into the bedroom where he still sits on the floor looking like a broken doll straight out of a horror movie. You drop next to him, staring at the mark on his neck. The antlers there look like yours. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“YOU DID NOT DO WHAT I THINK YOU JUST DID!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You won’t smack him. You can’t. You won’t stoop to violence like him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m getting out of here! I can’t do this anymore—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door locks itself; you turn back to him, aware that the room’s temperature has dropped a few degrees. You shiver. The danger isn’t past yet. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You MARKED me?!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks up at you, his smile widening. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Y/n, what else was I supposed to do?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You freeze. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That dream was real?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, it was. Just as much as that pact between us is now, too.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything around you is starting to blur again, except, you’re not hungry anymore. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll have your things moved into my room.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You want to protest, but you know you can’t win.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is this true? Is this what you did?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You flip back open to that last chapter. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>On the Marriage and Bonds of Wendigos.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your eyes are burning. This was not the happily ever after you wanted. This was anything but. You barely knew Alastor and he <em>fucking</em> bound himself to you? You’re like… <em>married</em>?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How does that even happen? It says you have to love each other for it to work! I—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You pause. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look at him a little closer and it dawns on you as to what he was talking about. Of course a freaking serial killer doesn’t understand emotions. Of course he wouldn’t understand what love was. He <em>would</em> think you’d poisoned him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And now the asshole went and did the unthinkable. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please tell me this is a joke.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks hurt for a moment, but the look disappears in a matter of moments. He composes himself, rising to his feet. He grabs your hand and raises your knuckles to his lips. You want to wrench your hand away, but given the horrible sight you just witnessed not a few minutes ago, you know you can’t afford to make that call. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m afraid not, darling. You really <em>can’t</em> leave me now. You’re <em>mine</em>.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As much as you’re struggling to grapple with this, you know you have to lay the ground rules.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And <em>you</em> are <em>mine</em>.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You plant your feet, gently pulling your hand away. He won’t have the upper hand on this one. He can’t have it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He puts his hand back out as though he wants to grab onto you, but pauses. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have no idea what you just got ourselves into, do you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shakes his head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, but I’m sure excited to see how entertaining this might be! Now, did you want to read the full book? I’m sure you’ll be elated to know about your hunting habits, basic anatomy and biology and so forth…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As though someone flipped a switch, he’s back to normal Alastor. He’s completely aloof to the fact that he just <em>bound</em> the two of your souls for eternity. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He loves me?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Wait… I… I love him?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look up at him; the swirling sensationin your stomach when he met with Rosie starts to make sense. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I… I don’t… I think I want to lie down. I’ll just…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You start to leave, but he stops you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This is your room now. You sleep in here with me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You groan. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine. Then let me sleep.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pauses for a moment before a devious grin replaces his already menacing smile. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me read the books to you then. It takes longer, but I do adore it when I get to read aloud.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before you can protest, you find yourself snuggled up next to him in a pair of your pajamas; he’s curled around you with a book on wendigo biology. You want to pull away, but the look on his face says he’s just short of snapping and becoming that monster again. Despite what he might look like, you know full well that he’s a dangerous animal in this moment. He’s not comfortable at all with what he just did. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And yet, here you both are. Reading. And your eyes are lulling themselves shut to the sound of his voice. And once you’re gone to the waking world, he, too, follows you into the world of dreams. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Complacency</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>How will y/n react when she wakes up and finds herself married? And what major implication does wendigo biology entail?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When you wake, you’re aware of the pain throbbing in your neck. Your skin burns; you blink in an attempt to bring your vision into focus. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first thing you notice is that you are most definitely <em>not</em> in your room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What the…?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, like a raging tidal wave, your memory crashes down upon you, swallowing you up with all the emotions you’d tucked into the recesses of your mind the night before. Your heart rate begins to race down a thoroughfare; your horse isn’t winning and your bet is about to be lost—in fact, as you slowly turn your head, you’re certain that you’re doomed to lose your entire livelihood. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There, at your side, is a sleeping Alastor. To your surprise, a small smirk remains upon his face. How he manages to keep smiling even when he’s not awake is baffling. How he remains so <em>peaceful</em> despite the horrifying events from the night before….</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You suppress a shudder for fear of any movement waking him. You have no clock by your bedside; you’re certain it's probably on his bedside table and your eyes are too bleary to read an analog clock right now. There would be no bright, red numbers to tell you what awful hour of the morning it was. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For now, you’re left to stew with your raging thoughts. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Married? What was he thinking?! </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your stomach churns as you begin to process once more the things you read in that awful book. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Maybe the book is wrong? Maybe I’m not married… Maybe that author is incorrect. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You turn, making sure Alastor is still fast asleep. You creep from beneath the covers, sliding at the speed of a snail out from beneath the sheets. Your feet gingerly scrape the floor and you stand. You turn to see if he’s awakened either, but, in fact, he is still out. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You save your sigh of relief for later. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For now, you’re on a mission to find <em>any</em> strand of information that might tell you if you’re as screwed as you think you are. The books lining Alastor’s shelf are in order alphabetically by last name; some are in English and some are in languages you can’t even begin to hope to decipher. Anything that bears the title “wendigo” somewhere in the name is removed from the shelf and into your outstretched hands. You’re grateful you can read so quickly as you skim page after page after page. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything reads the same. Everything on the marriage and mating habits of wendigos tells the same awful truth that you came to realize last night. Finally, you reach the last book. When it gives you the same results, you’re tempted to scream. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A childish part of you wants to just accept it. You remember some of what Alastor talked of last night when he read to you that book on wendigo biology—primal instincts play a major part in the feelings that reel their nasty heads like they are now. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What’s the harm in just going with it?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I don’t know, Y/n, marriage is ETERNITY here! Unless you’re freaking erased, you’re stuck with him! </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re not about to commit second-death suicide just to escape marriage, either. You pull back down one of the books you’d scanned on marriage. You want to know as much as you can about just how deep the bond goes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your face is fixed in a very intent frown when you hear him. His breathing. And, in fact, he’s very much awake. And <em>right</em> behind you, scanning the same pages you are. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good morning, darling!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You jump; the book flies out of your hand and into his own. He catches it with so much grace that it disgusts you. His eyes fall back on the last page you were scanning. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I see you’re doing more research!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re not sure whether you want to slap him, laugh, run, or scream. Or all of the above….</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alastor, look, what happened last night—I…” you begin to try and formulate a thought, but you’re not even sure what you’re thinking. You’re angry, scared, confused. Your mind is spinning and you fear you might collapse. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You what?” He raises an eyebrow and gestures for you to continue.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You take a deep breath. Your mind goes silent; for the first time, you have something to grab onto. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the hell were you thinking? First of all, you scared the <em>shit</em> out of me with whatever that intimidation tactic that was. That’s <em>hardly </em>a proposal. And, while I’m flattered that you have feelings for me that are apparently more mutual than I thought, we’ve only known each other <em>two weeks!</em> Alastor! You’re supposed to date a person! Get to know them! Make sure it’s a good match and at least <em>ask a person out before you MARRY them!</em>” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your chest is heaving and you lean back against the shelf behind you to steady yourself. His grin is still present but his eyes sparkle with curiosity. He’s not irritated or concerned in the slightest. Just… <em>curious</em>. How you can tell is beyond you, but you bite back any insults you might let fly. There’s no point in pushing his buttons any more than you might have. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, darling, as much as I would ordinarily agree, <em>I </em>don’t develop feelings for anyone. I never have. Until you, of course. So why complicate things? I’ll admit, I should probably have restrained myself more, but then there might be the complication of other people trying to claim you and woo you and <em>that</em> would be disastrous!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why, you scared they might have something you don’t?” You quip. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes flash and for a moment, you wish you were anywhere but in the room with him, but you stand your ground. If you’re going to be his<em> wife</em> then he’s going to have to listen to you. Period. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not at all. I just don’t want to be bothered with having to trample them all and wiping them from existence when they try to touch you. My little doe, I’m positively <em>enamored</em> with you and I wanted to make sure everyone knows you’re mine right away!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And, just like that, the childish part of you comes back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, so what? So what if I wanted to marry you? Don’t you think I would have wanted a ceremony? Time to pick a dress and invite people to be my bridesmaids? Find someone to walk me down the aisle? Had that one day where I get to feel like a princess? And, furthermore, maybe it’s not about the competition, Alastor. If you knew I liked you back, then why didn’t you at least go through the trouble to date me? Spend time with me? Get to know me! I want to feel special, not like I’m a piece of meat you’re trying to keep away from the other <em>wolves</em> out there.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re yelling now; tears are falling before you can stop them. He reaches out to catch one and, despite your instincts, you let him catch it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Darling, I still intend to woo you. It’s not like I’m rushing in on that part. I just want to keep you safe. I want you to know right away <em>just</em> how I feel for you—that my intentions are keeping you with me for eternity, just as you will… keep me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The last statement shocks you for a moment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Does he really see this as a two-way street? I mean, we both had to love each other for that to work, right?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your stomach churns again and you hide your head in your hands. If you had your way, you’d disappear from the world for a few years and come back when you were more sure of yourself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know you’re probably angry with me; how I acted last night was no way to show you my intentions. I’m not the best with emotions. I’ve never really had any like this prior to meeting you and I just felt that I had to act as fast as I could. I… I can’t really see my world without you in it anymore. And that… perplexes me,” he says to you through gritted teeth. That’s when you catch it. Fear. He’s genuinely afraid of how he feels. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alastor, have you ever loved anyone before? Ever?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes fixate on yours, his pupils dilating a bit and his stance relaxing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Only my mother, and not like this.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The room goes cold for a moment and you’re left stunned and feeling <em>bad for him again</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Why? </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alastor, I’m not trying to make a mockery out of your feelings for me. Clearly, for that ‘ceremony’ to have worked, I had to love you, too. And to be honest, I’ve never really loved anyone besides family either. So you’re not alone for these feelings being new. I’m just frustrated that you chose to show it to me that way and that you didn’t give me more time to… process… all of this. I know you’re excited and that meeting the person you want to spend eternity with is probably quite the shocker, especially given how long you’ve been here as opposed to me… and I’m not denying that I have feelings for you too, please, let me make myself ultra clear, I just—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before you can protest anymore, he silences you with a quiet, chaste kiss. It’s quick; it ends as soon as it starts, but its stops you in your tracks as he presses his forehead into yours. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m so sorry I hurt you, sweetheart.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The whisper is so soft you almost don’t hear it. Your heart is soaring and, for the time being, you let your resentments go. You realize just how hard this is for him just as it is you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You wrap your arms around him, tears welling back up in your eyes. You rub your hands up and down his back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You didn’t hurt me, Al. You just scared me, that’s all. I’m okay. It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re not sure if you’re saying these things more to yourself or to him. In any case, you’re a bit relieved as he slumps into your grasp, his arms tightening about your waist. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Please don’t hate me,” you say. It blurts out before you can say it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hate you? Why ever would I hate you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake your head, inner demons coming to grab you and pull you back into those dark spaces of self-doubt that you thought you’d left behind on Earth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I… I just….” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re left in silence. You can’t say anything. You don’t remember enough to know why you feel that way and why you’re so insecure, but you know you can’t stop the feelings from being there. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know. I’m very confused, Alastor. I don’t know how you wear yourself the way you do with so much confidence and give zero shits about what anyone else thinks. I just don’t understand. I’ve never been able to do that. And for you to be able to make such a decision without having to think about it—not even in the slightest. Like, I couldn’t do that even if I tried, even if I desperately wanted to.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks down at you and his smile grows wider. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Someday, you’ll understand. And, in the end, you’re a different person. It’s why I… I love you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You blink at the sound of that statement. You’ve never heard anyone say it aside from, like, your parents and your friends. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love you, too,” you mumble. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You clear your throat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I think we should go ahead and go downstairs to make breakfast, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor laughs. He knows what you’re doing, but he’s not about to say anything about it. He’s just happy you’re not running away from him or screaming at him anymore. He’s still processing his own feelings. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course! One thing, though, darling. I want you to be sure of the fact that I don’t see you as my property. I realize that I’ve probably made things seem that way. It’s just a terribly dangerous place down here and I’m trying very hard to keep you safe. I only keep up all these rules and walls because, out there, you would be someone’s piece of meat if you don’t know how to hold your own. And that’s not an insult to you or your powers. That’s coming from someone who has been here long enough to know what happens to beautiful souls like yours.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s such a profound thing to say and, once again, you’re blushing. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know. I’m sorry I keep accusing you of doing that. I’ll try to work on that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He chuckles. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I will try to work on expressing myself to you less… violently.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The two of you link arms and make your way down to the kitchen. His smile is wider than ever and he walks with a little more spring in his step. You wonder if this is how he was before you arrived. If maybe you were seeing a suppressed version of himself prior to now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Either way, it’s a pleasant sight to see him humming, grinning, and leering at any patrons that cross your paths as you make your way to the kitchen door. It swings open and you wait for his decision on what to make for the guests. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Pancakes and omelets. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You lick your lips, your stomach howling at the thought. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, Alastor?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His ears perk at the sound of his name. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, dear?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You said something about me needing to hunt? What was that about?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He laughs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t you remember me reading that book to you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You freeze for a moment. Then that last inkling of a memory from the previous night hits you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>No. NO.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I… I have to… I’m a…” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cannibal, dear. Don’t overthink it. I’ll help you understand exactly what that means later today when I take you out so you can get your fill. For now, I think these omelets will hold you over.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He almost sneers at you as he slips an omelet onto your plate. The meat in it looks highly suspect compared to what he normally gives you. You notice he made it on a separate pan from the others that are magically going about their business as well. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You expect me to eat this?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you don’t, those murderous thoughts you mentioned not too long ago will start to overtake you and you will end up eating <em>anyone</em> in sight that gets in your way.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your eyes widen. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look down at the plate. It smells awfully good. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Is it really made from other demons?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You nearly vomit at the thought, but your stomach is screaming now, the scent of it enough to send you into a violent frenzy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Reluctantly, you hold the forkful a few inches from your face. Alastor has turned his back on you and continues to hover over the dishes like a mother hen tending to her chicks. Food really is his specialty. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>If he made it, how bad can it really taste? And if I have to… </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first bite slides into your mouth and down your throat in a rebellious gulp. For the first time, your stomach is pleased by what you’ve offered it. A few seconds pass, and the omelet is gone. The relief is so overwhelming you begin to choke up. Alastor notices this and comes over to sit by you, placing an arm around your shoulders. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s alright. I suppose that feels better?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You nod, hiding your face in his chest. You hate yourself for being so complacent in all this. Accepting the marriage was hard enough. Now cannibalism?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You close your eyes, half expecting to wake up and find yourself in your bed back on Earth. But when you open them, you’re greeted by the dark reds of his pinstripe suit and the smell of him—that earthy smell like he’s just come tramping out of the woods. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Al?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How are we going to explain this to everyone else?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before he can answer, the <em>last</em> person you want to see comes bursting through the kitchen door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Angel Dust. </em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all are enjoying these developments! </p><p>Some more in-depth discussion on Alastor's decision will be brought to light as the story unfolds, as well as why Y/n goes along with things so readily. </p><p>In the end, you can sum it up that it's a hard life for a wendigo in Hell. Stay tuned for more! :3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Announcement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The staff catch on to what Alastor and (Y/n)/Daisy have done -- what will be their reaction?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uhh… what the hell did I just walk in on?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You tense at the sight of the arachnid demon; you don’t want him here. He’s not the first person you want to tell—even if you don’t tell him, he’s going to be suspicious and word will get around. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Why? Why him?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor looks to you; his smile is strained. He’s just as frustrated as you are that you’ve been interrupted. He stands up, leaving a hand loosely draped along your shoulder. You close your eyes and let out a sigh. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing, Angel! Daisy here needed her breakfast and I was just sharing with her a lovely new recipe.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel cocks his head to the side, squinting his eyes. As convincing a response it is, your face is still stained with tears. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Right. Then why is she crying? Are you torturing her? Making fun of her? You’d better not be, Smiles, or I’ll go right to Charlie!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You stifle a laugh. Is Angel… protecting you? You remember vaguely that you told him you want to be friends before Alastor took you upstairs and… <em>married</em> you. Your mind still can’t quite come to grips with everything. But you can’t leave your husband stranded and lost for words in a moment like this. You raise your hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Whoah now, Angel. He’s not torturing me, I promise. I’m just a little overwhelmed is all. My appetite is larger than usual and I get kinda… cranky… when I don’t eat.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well that’s certainly one way to put it,” Alastor laughs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shoot him a glare and it only causes him to chuckle more. His hand leaves your shoulder and he snaps his fingers to finish the morning’s breakfast. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Angel, deliver these meals to our guests, please. I think Daisy is still a little overwhelmed from last night’s meltdown.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel’s gaze passes between the two of you. A smirk starts to form on his face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait a minute, where did you two go after last night, huh? You weren’t…” Angel’s smile widens. Before he can say anything else, Alastor snaps his fingers and a zipper closes over Angel’s mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll have none of that language spoiling these dishes this morning, Angel. Deliver breakfast and kindly keep your poisonous thoughts to yourself.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor grins even wider at him while Angel mutters through the zipper. The magic will wear off; it’s a common response from Alastor at this point. You can still hear him laughing and you curse yourself. Your cheeks are burning at the thought of… <em>that</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re back to burying your face in the table when you hear the sound of more footprints. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good morning, guys!” Charlie’s cheerful demeanor seems to brighten the room like the sun itself might were to shine down in Hell. You’re grateful for her presence and, nonetheless, frightened of what she might say or think when she learns the truth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good morning, Charlie! Angel just took breakfast out; I left you and Vaggie your plates in here, of course.” Alastor’s chipper response baffles you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>How does he keep it together like this? </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But you do notice something. He’s definitely more animated than usual. The person you met was a <em>muted</em> version of Alastor. Which terrifies you even more. Was that all because of you?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes meet yours and sparkle a bit at the sight of you watching him as if to confirm your suspicions. You want to groan aloud, but you fear you might insult him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you okay, Daisy? You look like you’ve been crying…” Charlie’s eyes fall from you and back to Alastor, squinting at the sight of his leering form. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I’m fine. No, he didn’t hurt me. Why does everyone think he hurt me?” You laugh. “I’m fine. I just got hangry; he solve that for me.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie’s smile returns and she heads to the counter to retrieve her food. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Omelettes are the best!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She starts to stuff her face when, in a matter of seconds, the fork in her hand clatters onto the table and she shrieks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is that on your neck, Daisy?!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>The mark</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You freeze. Before you can reach up to cover it, she looks over to Al. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why does that look like part of your antler on there? Do you have one?!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>She knows</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Of course, Alastor’s collar is a bit high, but when he sheepishly moves his head to the side, his hair swings out of the way revealing his. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What did you two do?!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At the sound of her girlfriend’s screaming, Vaggie comes bursting into the kitchen, spear in hand and ready to claim blood. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s going on?! What did you do, shitlord?!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor laughs, moving aside before Vaggie’s spear can lance him. He lightly grabs it and pulls it from her grasp. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s no way to treat others, Vaggie! You hadn’t even let me explain myself; someone could have gotten… hurt…” he distorts the last word, letting his eyes spiral into dials. You cower out of instinct; the motion isn’t lost on him and causes him to pause. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You blink, unable to respond. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pulls up a chair next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re shivering; you didn’t realize it was so cold in the kitchen. To your dismay, Angel Dust comes storming back into the kitchen with an empty plate. The zipper on his mouth is gone. For the moment, the spotlight is on you and your… <em>husband</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nice tat, Al! I didn’t take you for the type…” Angel slurs, making the inflection of his sentence all the more seductive. It makes your stomach churn. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look over to Alastor to see how he’s going to respond to that. He’s looking far more confident than you; the look on your face tells him everything he needs to know, whether you want him to know you that well or not. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not sure how to explain this to you, but, Angel, this is not a tattoo. It is a bonding brand. It means that I have a wife; you’re looking at her at the moment. I’m afraid I… got a bit excited in my desire to court the lovely young Daisy and, for the Wendigo species, it is possible to end up binding yourself in eternal marriage if you don’t suppress your emotions well enough… needless to say, Daisy and I are married. To say it was a mistake is wrong… poorly executed in time and expression?” His eyes fall on you. “That… that might be more adequate. But, needless to say, she and I are bound for eternity now.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He says it like it’s as simple as anything else on the morning news. To everyone else, it is just as shocking as it was to you the night before. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Daisy, you… you… married him? You went along with this?” Vaggie looks at you with something akin to disappointment. For a moment, your soul wants to burst with something like rage. None of this was your fault. And you <em>certainly</em> couldn’t help that because you had a mutual feeling that you would end up married to the pinstriped bastard next to you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>A handsome bastard. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You hold back a hard and steady facepalm, choosing instead to clear your throat and come up with something like an answer. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The process of getting married is… complicated… and I guess because I had repressed feelings for him it made the ceremony a mutually aligned thing,” you manage to answer. The person speaking sounds like you, but you're not sure you’re hearing yourself right. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Indeed; Daisy and I are still figuring all of this out. I’m afraid I acted rashly and got us into this sooner than I would have liked to have… I felt that I loved her and assumed marriage was the best thing to do to express that. I’m sure you all know I’ve never really loved anyone before, so I didn’t exactly know how to handle it,” Alastor smiles sheepishly. “Daisy here has informed me that there is usually more involved in terms of courting before one should make such a drastic step. But I don’t regret it!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pokes a finger to your nose; to your disgust, it gets you to giggling. The thought of all this is so absurd that the strings inside you were bound to snap at some point. And they are now. You’re laughing. You’re laughing so hard tears are streaming down your face. You wrap your arms around his shoulders for support and hide your face in his neck, still screeching with laughter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everyone is staring at you; not even Alastor is laughing when you pull back.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, this is all just… wow. I don’t even… whatever. I don’t regret it either.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You pop Alastor a toothy grin and you swear in that moment relief washes over him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Did I frighten him?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t… I don’t… What?” Charlie looks even paler than usual, the redness of her cheeks even fading. Vaggie moves to steady her before she faints. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel, on the other hand, has decided it’s his turn to laugh. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Were y’all up there officiating the marriage then? Were you celebrating when I walked in on you this morning? Was he <em>too much to handle</em> for you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The zipper appears back on Angel’s mouth and you’re ready to haul off and throw something else at him. You hear something like “worth it” from behind the binds keeping Angel from saying anything else stupid. Alastor looks positively ready to murder him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you serious shitlord?! Did you brainwash her? What did you do to her?!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She doesn’t have her spear, but Vaggie looks ready to murder Alastor. If you don’t step in, you fear there’s going to be a bloodbath. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Vaggie, calm down. It’s okay. This situation is really strange for all of us to figure out, I think. I… I don’t really know what else to say. This is very new to both of us.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re fumbling for better words to use, but you come up empty. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I… I…” Charlie is still trying to find something to respond with, too. You don’t know if she’s in more shock or if you are. Either way, the situation has gotten so much more awkward than you wanted. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look to Alastor for help; he seems content. Nothing bothers him at all about any of this. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, are you going to announce that you’re official then?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look down and find Niffty staring up at the both of you; if her body were to shake any more violently she might explode. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not yet, my dear. I’d like to court Daisy more properly first. And perhaps host a real ceremony.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At this, Charlie perks up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A wedding?!” She seems positively elated at the idea, her mind coming up with a million different advertising schemes. Whether or not she was in power, she was always trying to find new ways to convince sinners they have a chance at redemption. A wedding would be a perfect publicity stunt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, darling. Why does no one hear me?” Alastor taps his microphone again. “It’s them, sir! Them!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You laugh a bit at the sight of it. And then your eyes grow wide. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Wedding?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where would you have the venue? Oh! Who would come? Who’s invited?!” Niffty is bouncing up and down at Alastor’s feet. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“All to be decided, little one,” Alastor scoops down and picks her up so she can board his shoulders like when the two of you went shopping together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You could have the wedding here! We could redecorate the ballroom!” Charlie grins, rubbing her cheeks at the thought of such excitement.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You look at Alastor, your ears perked a little more than usual. At this point, this isn’t your train anymore. You’re at a complete loss for words. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you think?” You ask him this so softly that you’re sure that most people didn’t even hear you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think that’s fine. Would you be pleased with that?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You nod. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s decided then! We’ll let you know when we’re ready to begin preparations.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie’s out the door in a blonde and white blur. Vaggie reaches out and retrieves her spear. She shoots you a passing look of defeat before running out the door after her girlfriend. Niffty is laughing and talking to Alastor, but you can’t hear them. Angel’s zipper mouth disappears and he shoots you a smile. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m going to step outside, dear,” Alastor calls. “I need to make sure our guests were served properly.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The moment Alastor leaves, Angel comes up to you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You okay, kid?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You nod, pulling your knees up to your face in the chair you’re still planted in. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This was all his idea, wasn’t it? You don’t seem too sure of any of it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re a bit taken aback at how insightful Angel’s observation is. You don’t know what to say and he takes a seat next to you. It’s amazing how much taller than you he is even while sitting down. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Does he make you happy?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think so,” you whisper. “This is all just so fast, though. I’m still in shock while he’s announcing it to everyone and so sure of himself and… I don’t really even know what to make of <em>myself</em> let alone how I would be with another person. For forever.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel nods. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s gotta be a lot. Look, kid, if you ever want to talk about it with anyone, I know Smiles doesn’t like me but you did say you wanted to be friends. And I’d be happy to take you up on that offer. You know what room I’m in?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sixty nine?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, look at you! You’re not as big a prude as Smiles would make you out to be, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was gonna teach high schoolers at some point when I was alive. What do you think?” You wink. “You hear all sorts of things. And you’ve gotta have a sense of humor.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel laughs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For the time being, things look like they might be okay. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Might be</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You stress that last part to yourself. You know murkier waters are most definitely ahead. But for now, you content yourself to making jokes with Angel in the kitchen and pushing aside your woes. That’s all you can do, anyhow. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for your patience you guys! It was a tough finals season and I've taken most of the week off to sleep and just come to terms with how awful the semester was. Hope you all enjoy the update!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Carnage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Daisy goes on her first hunt. </p>
<p>Things go far from how Alastor expects. Or anyone, for that matter. </p>
<p>**Warning. Depictions of violence and cannibalism. Do not continue if such matters make you squeamish or uncomfortable.**</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The end of the day comes faster than you want. You’re still trying to digest everything that’s happened to you in the last forty-eight hours. Marriage. Cannibalism. Those two alone are enough to make anyone fall apart and yet, you’re dealing with more. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Much of the day is a blur to you. You remember talking to Angel. You remember Charlie and Vaggie popping in here and there to check on you wherever you were in the hotel—you were always with Alastor. He carried you around and, for once, it didn’t make you so angry. You didn’t feel like an object this time now that you had a better idea of his intentions. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>I think</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s really bad at expressing emotions—that much is clear. That smile makes it harder to read him than anyone you’ve met in the history of your existence. You’re better at it than most, but it’s still a handicap. He’s sparing with any affection to you and, for that, you’re grateful. You wouldn’t want him hanging all over you when you just came to terms with your feelings so recently anyway. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yet, you’re wondering when he’s going to start making an effort to court you like he promised. If he wants a publicized marriage, you want a token of his affection that is worth its weight in eternal matrimony. Something you never thought yourself getting wrapped up in, let alone so soon. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In an odd way, the more you think about how he approached the whole “marriage” situation was cute… If you ignore the fact that he was a fricken monster—literally—when he decided to mark you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For now, you’re choosing to keep that memory locked far, far away in the recesses of your mind. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dinner has just finished up. You find yourself irritated at how much time you spend in the kitchen. Alastor <em>has</em> to start letting you explore more. That point of contention remains; you wonder if it will ever be resolved. If you’ll ever convince him it’s safe to let you step outside. But you know he’s warranted in his concern for you. People in Hell are trash. You know this from what you saw on the streets just outside this hotel. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>And to think some people end up facing this alone when they get here….</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thought makes you frown. You’ve scarfed down your second dinner plate and, unfortunately, your hunger is still bubbling up. At some point, you know it’s going to break you. You’ll snap, just like Alastor predicted. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You have to figure out how to stop that. Alastor mentioned <em>hunting</em> earlier but the thought of something so terrible makes your stomach churn. You snap your fingers, cleaning up the plate you just finished off and it disappears to the proper place in its cabinet. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor gives you a look and you brush him off. He doesn’t want you using magic so much so soon. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As if I could be any more tired than I am now.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You feel yourself slowing down. You know he’s right and that you should conserve your energy, especially while you’re hungry. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Darling, since you insist on using your powers, I must insist that we go hunting. Tonight. You need to bulk up.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You roll your eyes. You’ve been bickering about this. You know he’s going to win. There’s now way you can go on with your head pounding like this and your stomach growling as loud as a category four hurricane. If you’re not careful, you’ll become the very storm that’s swirling within you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re relieved to concede and it torments you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What does hunting entail?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come with me,” Alastor extends a hand, as though he were inviting you to a five-star restaurant and he was a truly proper gentleman. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">While the latter part seems true, you know that you’re about to be exposed to some extreme carnage. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You swallow your fear. You know he’s not going to let you out of this one. When you grab his hand, the world around you shifts faster than you can blink. When you land, you wobble a bit on your feet. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What the?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Teleportation, dear. You’ll learn it with some practice,” Alastor sneers. He’s amused by your obvious discomfort. You bare your teeth at him and carry on as though nothing happened. As though it wasn’t the most amazing thing ever to just hop from one spot to another. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The magics in Hell couldn’t get old, could they?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>It seems like this place is full to the brink of surprises. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You glare at the biggest surprise of all standing next to you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well? Where are we?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You both turn your attention to where you’re standing. It’s a dismal alleyway. In the distance, sirens are wailing, though you’re not sure why. You know they aren’t from police cars. Maybe alarm systems from businesses being stolen from? </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You can’t imagine trying to run a business down here. How would anyone protect their things and ensure they actually make profit?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your admiration of Alastor grows as you continually realize how much effort he put into making such a name for himself down here. To actually be <em>feared</em> in a place where fear is same-old is something. A shiver snakes down your spine and you grip his hand a little tighter. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re in a separate part of the pentagram. Southern portion. Not a big area; as of right now, it’s largely unclaimed territory after the last cleanse. I intend to take it before my rivals do. And <em>that, </em>my lovely wife, is what hunting is for.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You know you sound stupid, but you’d rather sound stupid early than wait and let all your stupid shine on some stage years later in the future when it isn’t so easy to hide. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The best way to garner power is to instill fear. You have to break a few eggs to make an omelette.” He grasps his chest and chuckles while you roll your eyes at the horrible inside joke. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>It’s legal to throttle your spouse here….</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You size him up and remember that it’s a two-way street and it’s probably best not to attempt going down that avenue. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We’re going to hunt for our food in this little neighborhood while I broadcast and demand they surrender territory. Now, some minor ‘overlords’ might try to interfere with us. So you need to stick close to me. I’ll make sure they know not to mess with you and we’ll create a name for yourself.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? I thought I was going by Daisy now….” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, but does anyone call me Alastor besides those that know me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You almost frown but catch yourself. You try not to be an active frowner anymore. You don’t like seeing him upset. Even his smile can’t hide the irritation when he catches you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, they call you the Radio Demon. Did you come up with that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He laughs. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No! Of course not! We’re making a name for you by letting them decide! That’s how I got my title.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You nod, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to snap together. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, so, what, do we just go running in and attacking people? I don’t want to attack innocent people?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before he can respond, you hear a scream. It wrenches your gut. Your eyes, much stronger than they’ve ever been, trail in on a prostitute being chased home by some particularly unsavory characters. They’ve surrounded her. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that’s all it takes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your demon form revs to life, as though it was there the whole time just waiting. You’re a towering, twisted, almost equine-like caribou. In the center of your head is a long, dangerous looking horn that spikes out between your now monstrous antlers. Something like that of a lightning bolt erupts from your mouth, blinding everyone in the surrounding street. Your gold and red fur is blindingly bright as you begin to chase them down. You’ve zeroed in. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They don’t stand a chance. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your teeth tear into them and you’re feasting on them before you can stop yourself. The prostitute manages to get away, but you’re not done. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You hack them to pieces, stringing the streets with their guts and blood. Somewhere in the distance you hear Alastor broadcasting. You can hear him cheering wildly and his own voice is disrupted by the chaotic static you recognize from that monstrous beast that cornered you in his room. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You begin chasing others down. Anyone who looks suspicious. Anyone who looks guilty. Anyone who looks like that same damned predator who chased you when you were alive. Oddly enough, Alastor never moves. His victims come to him. They parade before him as though asking to be murdered. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You, though. You don’t care. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re hungry. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They taste good. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They die. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Except, that’s just the problem. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When your form dwindles down, you’re shaking. You can’t stand straight without Alastor holding you. Whatever primal rage erupted from you is gone now, but you can feel the tingling remains of that creature bouncing around in your veins. He sweeps you up and wipes some of the blood from your mouth. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your stomach is full. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Something like concern fills his eyes as he looks back on the victims littering the streets. You don’t know. You can’t <em>possibly </em>know. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In your wake, you leave behind victims that don’t get back up. Both his and your victims remain lifeless. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They’ll get back up,” Alastor whispers. “They always do. This is Hell. No one can die again lest they fall on the blade of an angel.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You pop back into the hotel room. You can’t hear him speaking anymore, but that last whisper of his haunts you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What did I just do?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your world fades out. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the huge delay, guys! I've been super tired and working hard on summer research and studying for my comprehensive exams. </p>
<p>Not to mention, I got a little stuck with how this chapter should go. I hope you like how it turned out and that the effort was worth it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Bad Apple</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What exactly happened during Reader's hunt?</p><p>None other than the Devil himself starts to connect the dots; if it's what it looks like, well... we'll just have to find out.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">White boots gleam as they crunch over carnage stacked for miles in the Southern part of the Pentagram. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer adjusts his collar, smiling all the while. He takes in everything around him. Blood. Fear. Everything is as it should be. Sinners are doing what they do best—cowering in the face of power. They hide their faces from him as he passes. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He heard of Alastor’s newly claimed territory; it wasn’t uncommon for him to visit shortly after an overlord laid claim to such a stake, let alone one so massive. It was strange to him—Alastor wasn’t one to claim so much territory at once, but this whole portion of the Southern sector surrendered to him without so much as a blink. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer, ever curious, finds himself laughing at the sight of other demons crawling out of his way. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Alastor must have given them quite the fright! I must compliment him the next time I see him!</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knows full well that the Radio Demon is back at that blasted Hazbin Hotel, helping his daughter try to “redeem” sinners. Lucifer calms at the sight of everything around him. He can’t actually believe in the mission given what he sees. He knew something was up when his daughter called Lilith when a power struggle occurred a while back when it came to how the hotel should be run. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was confirmation that Alastor was just there for shits and giggles. This was not the work of someone who believed in second chances and mercy. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His feet stop as he lands in the center of the carnage. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All around him, bodies lay lifeless. He turns his head, wondering why these sinners are taking so long to regenerate. It was no secret that, in Hell, a person’s soul could be consumed by another. Alastor was infamous for his cannibalistic preferences when it came to absorbing other people’s magic. He had no doubt such things happened. But Alastor also enjoyed leaving a trail behind him of those not worth consuming. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were accounted for, just as always. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer claps his hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get up you lousy fools.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">None were struck with an angel’s blade. The worst part about Hell wasn’t being consumed—it was the fact that, after being dealt blows that would murder on Earth, you could get back up and you would have to live with those said wounds until they recovered. Sinners everywhere had scars to prove it. They took hundreds of years to fade in some cases, depending on the damage they were dealt. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No one stirs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer giggles. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My, you all were given <em>quite</em> the show,” he grins even wider. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nothing gave him greater satisfaction than watching others suffer. After all, it wasn’t like there was anything <em>happy</em> about Hell. There were no blue skies. No hopes. No dreams. Nothing. He inherited it long ago from his father and learned to love it. It was the only way to get by. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now, get <em>up</em>,” he commands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite his enjoyment, the shenanigans needed to stop. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A cold sweat breaks on his brow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Why aren’t they waking?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer bends down to the body of the sinner closest to him. He slaps them clean across the face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>That should do it. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When his hand connects to their skin, though, his eyes grow wide. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Their skin is cold. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stands back to his feet at full attention, his spine—for the first time in years—creeping with goosebumps. <em>Fear</em> was not something the Devil himself ever wanted to feel again. And here he is, in the streets of Hell, afraid of what just happened. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>It’s not Extermination Day. What kinds of weapons did they use? Did Alastor just lay claim to this after they came through and not say anything?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer would make a claim that treason was committed, but other than oppression, there were no laws in Hell. It was a dog-eat-dog world. He just happens to be top dog; something like this just can't stand. Not without him knowing it bodes no threat to him. If it does, well... that just wouldn't be pretty. Fun. But not pretty. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No, this was something that required… <em>investigation. </em>Then further decisions could be made going forward.</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer hums, putting a hand to his chin. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think it’s about time I visit that little hotel of my daughter’s.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He cringes. He hasn’t seen his daughter since… well… he frowns. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Regardless, this appointment can’t afford to wait. He needs to find out what went wrong here and he needs to find out soon. Before he turns on his foot to call for his limo, he notices something on the wall. Next to the image of Alastor—ever-present wherever he brings his carnage most—is the image of something <em>else</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A strange creature with antlers and a singular horn between them is a giant, blurring flash of furious light. Its mouth is stretched wide and, in the crudely drawn image, it appears to be consuming everything in sight. Shredding things to pieces. <em>Eating</em> said pieces. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Dots start to connect themselves; if it’s what Lucifer thinks it is, Hell is in for one rough ride. He only hopes Alastor doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shorter chapter, but I hope this interlude was worthwhile. Our favorite King of Hell will enter the stage now; Reader and Alastor are in for a bumpy ride for sure.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>From Alastor's POV. A relatively peaceful chapter, but Alastor considers the consequences of he and Reader's bloody hunt.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Y/n still slumbers in bed. You’re pacing. Never—and you mean never—have you ever felt <em>regret</em> from going on a hunt. You enjoy the thrill of watching the light leave the eyes of your victims. You feel full as you consume the souls of everyone that dares to cross you and might serve you in future matters. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You adore capturing those that might benefit you via deals when they beg you to escape your wrath. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But today… everything went wrong today. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You stare at your new spouse with awestruck bewilderment. She has no idea the impact she has just made in making a name for herself—her power and prowess would be sung from the rooftops in trembling fear by any denizen of Hell that witnessed it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was a gold and red blur when she consumed those creatures. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The problem was that she <em>actually</em> consumed them. The flesh she shredded from the bones of her victims did not regenerate. Nor did they from the victims to which you did the same. The power you feel coursing through your veins is unlike anything you’ve felt in your decades in Hell. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was a blinding light; you were a cascading dark. Everything the two of you touched became yours for the taking. Your powers bounced off each other like two towers. Except <em>now</em> there would be questions. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your enemies will not like the sound of anything they hear. You’re fairly certain that, if you truly have the capacity to exterminate along with your wife, that you will grab the attention of the Devil himself. That’s not something you’re keen on doing. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The notice of surrender came immediately to the hotel—it arrived shortly after you carried Y/n to your room. You cock your head to the side to appreciate her chest rising and falling as you review the letter over and over. You now own almost the entire Southern portion of the Pentagram. Even those who previously considered themselves subservient to Valentino gave up. This wouldn’t sit well with the others. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You don’t even like the idea of being responsible to such a large parcel of land. Wonderland is really the only place you care about in Hell. It’s the most… <em>like you</em>….</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Still, you can’t help but hum a merry tune at the thought of so many denizens of Hell finding you <em>that</em> terrifying. Perhaps Vox and Valentino and that new girl—what was her name? You could hardly keep up anymore. You don’t involve yourself in politics. It isn’t really your style. But, perhaps they would get a clue. They would likely be more hesitant to meddle in your affairs moving forward. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You puff your chest out and look back down at Y/n. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What a boon you are to me, you wonderful creature. And that’s not even the best part about you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">No. The best part about Y/n is the way she smiles. The way she stands up to you and, yet, has manners and remembers to be considerate and thankful for everything she gets. How bashful she acts when she receives gifts. And her laugh, though rare, is the most contagious thing you’ve ever heard. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake yourself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What in the nine circles?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’ve read about love. You know that’s what allowed you to bind yourself to her. But this was still so new to you. You still had so much to learn; you were ashamed at yourself for how brazen you were in your decision to bind her to you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>But what if I hadn’t?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That thought terrifies you even more. If someone else managed to court you and discovered that sweet power of yours and how it <em>connected</em> with them once they were bound. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You snap your fingers and replace your bloodied suit with a pair of pajamas. You’d already done Y/n the service of getting her cleaned and into proper bedtime attire, but you were too focused on reliving what you’d seen to go to bed. It was quite late now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You slide in next to her and pay careful attention to the way she breathes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>What other secrets do you hold, dear?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You pull her close to you so that she rests across your chest. You don’t know whether to be happy, afraid, or even disgusted at everything that happened today. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Maybe those sinners will get back up anyway. Maybe I’m overthinking this. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You can’t decide what to think, but Y/n has become even more-so your priority. She isn’t safe now. She can certainly hold her own, but she is a delicate pawn waiting to be played by someone who doesn’t realize that, quite rightfully, she deserves to be the queen on the chessboard. You don’t want her being manipulated—stolen from him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This brings a quickened fury to your veins. The thought of someone <em>hurting</em> your sweet Daisy nearly sends you in a violent rage out of your bed. But you don’t wish to wake her. She murmurs something in her sleep—it sounds happy. You hope for her sake that it is. Everything is about to change dramatically; you can’t help but wonder what is going to happen when the blood-red sun passes beyond the horizon in the morning. You hope that it never does. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alastor?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sound of your name being whispered so shyly causes you to freeze for a moment; when a hand traces its way up your chest you whip your head down to see that your wife is starting to wake. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Darling? Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her eyes begin to water. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I killed those people, didn’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Perhaps those murmurs were not so happy after all. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So here you find yourself in the middle of the night holding your wife, shushing her, and doing your absolute best to get her to calm down. She doesn’t remember most of the events that occurred; that much was to be expected. She was far too hungry when she went in and a first hunt is rarely remembered except in violent, bloody flashes. It’s primal. It’s beyond anything you can even begin to put to words. And hers was right on tier with any other overlord’s. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s likely what your wife is now. As she sobs into your chest, she is completely unaware that people will now bow out of the way when she walks down the street—that she will command presence when she walks into a room and that tales of her carnage will become standard on every street. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even worse, she has no idea that she might have an ability that makes her a prime target of every high-ranking demon in Hell. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Myself as well now, I suppose. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You grin without meaning to at the thought of holding such awesome power. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Damn be the consequences, this means I have the upper hand in quite a few things. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But you know better. You won’t show those cards. You won’t let her show hers either. Hunts will be larger when they occur but much more spread out. You begin planning and scheming while you run your fingers through her hair and wipe tears from her cheeks as they find their way down. They’ll never get far. Not with you there. You’ll stop them all up; sure enough, after a while, they cease. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her breathing stills. She’s asleep again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She grips onto you for dear life in her sleep and your grin curls in a way in never has, your eyes full of nothing but content. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>No matter what, you’re always mine, dear. We’ll figure this out. Together.</em>
  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you all enjoy! </p>
<p>I'm considering making an Awakened thread on my author discord so you all can get more behind-the-scenes action and have more opportunities to ask me questions. It would be tied to my other works in progress that are not fanfic related since it would be on my author server as a whole, so be warned. If this is something you would like to see, please let me know in the comments! If you're interested, I can also--in future chapters--post my author social media, website, etc if you all are interested in the other works that I do.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Rough Arrival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lucifer arrives at the hotel; Charlie is less than welcoming at the sight of her absentee Dad. What does his presence mean for Reader?</p><p>Here is my author discord link as promised! Included is an Awakened thread! </p><p>You can hit me up with questions about chapter updates, the writing process, or even just discuss theories! </p><p>https://discord.gg/HR3dkEa</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, everyone! Shorter chapter, but I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s the early morning when Lucifer arrives at his daughter’s hotel. His eyes are overwhelmed by the clutter of lights and decoration that still cover the hotel. It’s very reminiscent of his daughter; thus, himself. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stretches his smile and takes a breath before knocking at the door. He called Lilith earlier this morning but she had yet to call him back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>She’s always so busy. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shrugs, knowing full well that his wife will get back to him when it’s the proper time. Right now he needs to establish himself in the hotel and get back on his daughter’s good side. He needs to speak with Alastor as much as possible about the Southern Pentagram that now lay in his more than capable claws. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Maybe he just got really lucky.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer placed hellhounds everywhere on the streets where the dead bodies lay; they were to alert him immediately if any one of them stirred. As of right now, the phone in his hand was cold. No calls from hellhounds and no calls from Lilith. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The morning was already off to a bitter start. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door finally opens and he’s greeted by the gray moth girl that’s courting his daughter. Her one eye widens at the sight of the Devil standing at the door of the hotel he’d condemned so much in his public speeches following his daughter’s media fiasco. A hint of rage flashes in her eyes before she reluctantly lets the door swing open. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dad?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes train on the face he’s missed so much in the last few years. In a moment, all of his disappointment in her melts away. Right now, he’s just happy to see his little girl. Her hesitation to come near him wrenches at his heart strings. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, Charlotte. I’ve come to see you!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stretches his arms wide and grins wildly at her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come give your old Dad a hug!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie grimaces, standing to her feet and walking toward her father. She lightly wraps her arms around him and, before she can pull away, she’s crushed in his embrace. If anyone so much as mentions the tears in his eyes, he’ll murder them on the spot. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finally, he lets her go. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Charlotte, dear! How have things been going with your little… project…” he gestures as generously as he can at the hotel lobby. He doesn’t want to set her off. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>There’s a time and a place for every discussion and this isn’t it. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She frowns. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do you care? Did Mom kick you out or something? If you need a place to stay I can get you a room key. Or are you here for something else?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She puts her hands on her hips and does her best to hide the quiver in her lip. She’s hurt. Beyond hurt, really. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s his fault and he knows it. He knows that look so well. It’s so much like his own that she can’t really hide how she feels from him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Charlotte, dear, I’m here to see you and stay for a while. I have business to attend to, of course, but you’re my little apple fritter! That never changes,” he chuckles. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She rolls her eyes and stalks off. He wonders if she’s going to come back when she rounds the corner to greet him with a key. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have a penthouse suite on the top floor. Knock yourself out. Where’s Mom?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shrugs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I called her to try and have her come with me but you know how busy she is with the theater!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He tries to hide the hurt in his chest that his daughter is so dismissive of him. He realizes with a shattering weight that he’ll have to focus on more than just Alastor and whatever creature he has with him from the posters. He’s got to convince his daughter that he still loves her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He can see it in her face. She knows she’s a disappointment to him. She knows that he hasn’t cared for so long. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And now she thinks she’s not loved by her own father. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The thought itself brings him back to memories he wishes he could erase. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>This is going to be a very long visit. Lilith, I wish you were here to help. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you mind showing me around first?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Charlie throws her hands up in frustration. Her thread of patience snapped long ago with him. They fought all the time before she moved out and started this little hotel of hers. It’s clear to him immediately that she’s still not past that point in their lives. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure, Dad, and while I’m at it why don’t I tell you how Alastor took over and you didn’t come help? How my mission’s been blown to smithereens and my attempts to help people always get overrun by temptations that keep them falling into the ‘fiery pit of failure’ just like he wanted? I called you for help; I know you don’t agree with me, but couldn’t you at least show up to protect your own daughter? To set things straight?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She turns on her heel. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll have someone else come give you the tour.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s taken aback by how abrupt she’s being but, right now, he knows more than ever that he deserves it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Charlotte, dear…” he reaches out to her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s Charlie.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With that, she disappears. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A few moments later, Y/n walks into the front lobby. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Vaggie? Have you seen Charlie? I need to ask her some que—”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She freezes. That face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer smiles, extending a hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lucifer, dear. A pleasure to meet you. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Mistakes Were Made</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lucifer begins to try and question Alastor about his acquisition of such a large chunk of the Southern Pentagram; in the process, he runs into Daisy for the second time in one day. </p>
<p>What will the Radio Demon think when he finds out that his wife has already met the Devil without him present?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You freeze when Lucifer asks for your name. You know you need to think fast. His visit can’t bode anything <em>good</em> for you. Or anyone, for that matter. Charlie never speaks of him fondly; he is openly dismissive of the hotel and even more disrespectful of his daughter and her goals. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You don’t necessarily want to go to Heaven, but you don’t want this bastard hurting your friend either. Your fur bristles a bit, but you calm it before you cause a scene. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Daisy.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You grasp his hand with assertive intent, letting him know upfront that you won’t be tolerating any nonsense. You also purposefully omit your real name. Your nickname is proving far more useful than you thought it would. You just hope that everyone catches on that you made that choice on purpose. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel Dust comes walking into the room. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, look! It’s the big guy!” He feigns a bow, purposefully letting his fluff show a bit more than usual. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer sneers a bit at him. He is, of all things, surprisingly faithful to his wife. He doesn’t deserver her and he knows it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I heard ya need the grand tour?” Angel Dust’s gold tooth sparkles under the lobby lights. Before Lucifer can protest, he’s ushered from the room, leaving you breathless and relieved that you don’t have to deal with him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Vaggie stares at you with something like pride. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You really know how to serve it up cold. Thanks for not kissing up to him like everyone else. I don’t know if you did that for Charlie or not, but he’s been a real pain in her ass.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh definitely. I’m not gonna do anything stupid, but I’m gonna make it as clear as I can that I <em>don’t</em> approve of him coming her to mock her or make things worse between them.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She nods. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How’s it going with you and… ya know…” Vaggie struggles to even say his name. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pretty well. He’s in the kitchen making breakfast for everyone. I came out here ‘cause I sensed something was up.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was true. You’d gotten a buzzing feeling in your gut and you always knew that meant something was amiss. You’re sure Alastor is bound to come racing out to find you. You know he won’t be happy that you’re out here on your own; he’ll probably be even angrier when he finds out that you spoke to the Devil himself and shook his hand. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You swallow. You figure it’s probably best to make it back to the kitchen as fast as possible. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You hurry, your feet barely touching the floor at the pace you’re going. When you throw open the door, you find Angel Dust and Lucifer standing and talking to Alastor. Your husband’s eyes meet yours and you feel like you’ve been shrunk down to the size of a pea. He’s a looming monster ready to devour the wayward little wendigo whole. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You put on a smile, choosing to ignore that your impending doom is likely to hit you later. Not in front of guests, though. That would be beneath Alastor’s hospitable behavior. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lucifer, this is my wife, Y/n.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Shit. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, we met in the lobby. Though, she called herself Daisy. Which name is it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You cut Alastor a look before returning your attention to the Devil who, at the moment, is crunching on an apple. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I go by Daisy, but my name is Y/n. Sorry for the confusion. I just get used to everyone else calling me by my nickname.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shrug, pulling up a chair to the dining room table. A plate of fresh breakfast awaits you; something about Lucifer’s gaze tells you that he knows you’ve got demon flesh in your plate. He cracks a wry grin, moving over to sit with you at the table. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Just when I got rid of this guy. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel Dust tries to sit on the other side of you but, instead, Alastor appears beside you at little more than a snap of his fingers. He won’t have his wife sit alone with the Devil. Not in his kitchen. Not in his <em>afterlife</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, what sin did you commit to end up here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You decide it’s best to come up with something, but you also guess that he’ll know a lie if he hears one. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Murder.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shovel another forkful of food into your mouth and do your best to act like that statement doesn’t bother you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I see. Who did you off?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I honestly don’t know. Some stranger,” you laugh. It’s a brilliant response. It’s technically <em>not</em> a lie. Of course, Lucifer doesn’t look convinced at all. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he can’t press the point. Alastor sweeps in to save you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What brings you to the hotel?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer adjusts the lapels of his suit and smiles a bit wider. He seems to know about Alastor’s perception of those that frown. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m here to check out this little project for myself. I hear that you’ve changed the message of the hotel quite dramatically.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer finishes his apple, giving Alastor a narrow-eyed stare. His opinion about the hotel might be jaded, but his position on defending his daughter has definitely shifted in favor of protecting her. Charlie, of course, is still nowhere in sight. But that isn’t going to stop Lucifer from trying. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve simply added constraints to mimic a true ascension, that’s all,” Alastor quips. “What’s redemption without temptation?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He clasps his hands together; his eyes, when they fall on you, tell you that you’re in more trouble than you could ever hope for. You can smell the lies in Lucifer’s words. He’s here for more than just “checking up” on the place. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, about the Southern Pentagram—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On cue, the oven dings. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, I’ll have to talk to you about my recent acquisition later, Lucifer! I have foods to attend to!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer, you swear, grumbles under his breath. But he can’t push anymore. He won’t tarnish his reputation as a gracious guest. Of all the things he was, the Devil was NOT an ungracious house guest. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I appreciate your introduction earlier, Y/n. Or Daisy, I apologize. Now, where did my tour guide go to?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel Dust hops to attention. He’s been sitting at the island in the center of the kitchen, stuffing spare food down his throat in the hopes of going unnoticed. You know for a fact that everyone knows he’s been doing it, but Alastor is too busy holding up his charade to say anything, which is <em>really</em> saying something. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where to next, yer highness?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anywhere you like!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Angel Dust smirks. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anywhere?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer rolls his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I would suggest checking out the dining hall at this time of day. You’ll make quite an appearance to the guests and have the best idea of what this place looks like during its busy times,” you offer. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Lucifer smiles at you. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why, thank you Daisy. I hope to see you around?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You find Alastor giving you a side-eye and swallow a lump of fear that’s settled deep in your throat and chest. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>When did someone drop a bucket of ice on the room?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The exchange isn’t missed by Lucifer who lets out a hearty laugh. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good to meet you. Tell Charlotte I can’t wait to see her again if you get the chance.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With that, the Devil leaves. You never thought you would <em>want</em> someone like Lucifer to hang around because, now, you’re stuck in the kitchen with a <em>very </em>angry wendigo. Before you even have a chance to blink, all the kitchen doors slam and lock themselves shut. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re bound to a chair and scooted across the room at lightning speed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What happened to having an escort?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The question comes out with so much static in it that you can hardly decipher it. Alastor’s eyes are dials and his form starts to become that misshapen <em>thing</em> you saw in your room the night you were married. The night you went hunting. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And now, you’re stuck with it again. And it really is angry with you. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all for reading; additionally, thank you for your patience! </p>
<p>I've been working hard with this chapter. I know it's not super long, but for some reason the pacing and setting were really tripping me up, so I had to break it up and work on it more slowly than usual. Additionally, I've taken it upon myself to participate in Camp NaNoWriMo! I'm in the process of editing my first novel so I can, hopefully, send it to my editor around September. Once that happens, I'll be looking to publish it. </p>
<p>But no worries! I have no intentions of abandoning Awakened; in fact, I find it to be a lovely escape when I get stuck on Remember the Stars. Updates may come slower since my comprehensive exams are in August and I need to study for them to do well, but that will be experienced across all of my creative outlets, so please don't take it to mean that I take this work any less seriously. </p>
<p>If you haven't already, check out my Instagram @erismarriott or Facebook Eris Marriott Author. I also have an author discord which has been linked in my profile here and the chapter previously. While I can't advertise my fanfiction on my official author social medias (since they are business accounts and the algorithm might mistake me for trying to make money off my fanfiction, which I am not) it's still such a fun way for me to have more personal interactions with my readers and I am more than happy to answer DMs, messages, etc inquiring about updates for Awakened. If I get enough people in the Discord server, I'll be happy to become more interactive with sneak peeks and such there as well. </p>
<p>*Whoo* That was a mouth full. Or eye full, rather. *Ba dum tss* </p>
<p>Stay tuned for the next update!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Explain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reader tries to explain why she left Alastor's side, as well as get to the bottom of why he's been so clingy all day. What happens when she finds out what really happened when they went hunting?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alastor, please, let me explain,” you pout. You’re over trying to fight today. It’s not worth it. “I didn’t mean to be out of your sight like that. I didn’t sneak away to try and meet the Devil. I felt a shift in the energy in the hotel and I thought Charlie was in trouble. I wanted to go make sure she was okay.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The creature tilts its head to the side, its smile a bit more crooked as you continue to explain yourself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop, Alastor. We make a lot of mistakes when we argue.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He shifts back to his normal form; that’s when you see it. There’s <em>hurt</em> in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you regard our marriage as a mistake?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake your head. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, but you even admitted that it was a mistake to scare me like you did.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He breathes out, almost like he’s relieved. </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Does he really like me that much?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pulls up a chair and releases you from being restrained to yours. You’re not moving though. You can’t test his patience anymore today. You’ll have to toe the line, though you’re not sure why. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Darling,” he starts, “I can’t imagine what kinds of things he said to you in the lobby today. But, listen, what happened the other day when we went hunting… it’s not normal. We…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The way he’s hesitating makes you uncomfortable. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alastor, I thought you said hunting was okay? Like, not morally, but… you said I had to do that for my own sake and for the sake of everyone around me. You said it was a normal way for you to take over parts of the Pentagram, too. Was there something I did wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re sweating now. You wonder if you jeopardized his reputation or made him look stupid. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Is that why he’s been on edge so much this morning?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Truthfully, you only followed your instinct without telling him what you were doing because he’s been a wreck all morning. He practically carried you downstairs this morning and was scared to even let you go to the bathroom alone. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s on your mind, Alastor? You have to tell me what’s wrong. I know our marriage isn’t exactly… traditional… but I am your wife. You can tell me things and know that I won’t go spreading your truths. I’m here for you.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To your surprise, he pulls you onto his lap. It’s not a sexual moment; rather, he takes it as an opportunity to bury his head in your hair. He’s careful around your antlers to your relief. You would hate for him to accidentally stab himself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My darling,” he whispers, “we managed to actually erase some people the other day. We murdered them. Truly.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The grip he has around you becomes much more suffocating than you ever thought it could. Your breath catches in your throat. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You manage to whisper the question, but your throat is choking up. “I thought you said only an angel’s blade can do that.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He kisses your forehead. He knows how soft you are; suddenly his closeness to you makes so much more sense. He’s been waiting for the right moment to tell you. He’s been ready to catch you when you fall like you are now. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">While you’re frustrated with him, you know it’s not his fault and you find it kind of… <em>sweet</em>? That he’s been trying to keep you safe from the truth as long as possible so he can hold you when he has to tell you is a big thing for him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without thinking, you reach up to kiss him on the cheek. He stiffens at the touch, but he doesn’t show any signs of becoming that awful predator thing again. He looks down at you, his smile smaller than it’s ever been. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What was that for?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s to say… I love you? And I appreciate that you’ve been looking out for me like this. I take it Lucifer is really here to try and figure out what happened, huh? And you’re scared because you know that what happened… isn’t normal. Right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>He nods. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You say you love me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His grin becomes more mischievous. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I figured you would be focusing on the fact that we murdered people, but here you are professing your feelings to me.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He clutches his hand to his chest. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m touched.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You roll your eyes, but you’re happy to see him happy again. That smile is just a mask. It doesn’t mean he’s always happy; that’s something you figured out <em>early </em>on. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Listen, you dork,” you start. Tears are brimming in your eyes. He reaches to brush one from your face; you lean into his touch and he holds your head in his hands like that for quite some time. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You sit in the silence while he wraps you up in his arms again. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know what to do, Alastor. I can’t eat if it’s going to kill people.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor leans back. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m afraid that’s not an option, my love. You have to eat. It’s the only way for you to make sure you don’t kill people that don’t deserve it. You murdered rapists, pedophiles, and people who have done unspeakable things. I watched you, myself. You have the same inclinations that I do.You were cleaning up the streets.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Same inclinations?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>“Oh, I’ve always targeted people that I think deserve it. I don’t target the innocent.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You smile. He’s like a serial killer Batman. For a moment, you find yourself counting your lucky stars that, of all the wendigos you could have been bound to in Hell, that you ended up with this one. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Not that there are that many left thanks to this dork. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, what do we do?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alastor, Lucifer is staying here as a guest now.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alastor’s eyes widen.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Like, a guest guest?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You laugh at how improper the question sounds. It’s so out of line for your husband to say things like that. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My dear, this is no laughing matter. If he’s here to stay, we’re going to have to figure out alternative arrangements.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your smile drops. You see that it bothers him, but you can’t help yourself. This isn’t anything that you were prepared for. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How are we going to handle this?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grips your hands.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know, my little Daisy. I don’t know.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pulls you back into his arms. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>“I will keep you safe with everything I have in me, do you understand? But you really can’t leave my side now. I hate to treat you like a caged animal, but… he would do far worse to you if he knew what you were capable of.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door to the kitchen opens; Charlie steps in, tears streaming down her face. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is she capable of, Alastor?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You both freeze. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’re in deep trouble now. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope all my American readers had a lovely Fourth of July! </p>
<p>Thank you all for your continued readership!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Secrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>How will Alastor and Y/n explain to Charlie everything she just heard?</p>
<p>Warning: Some heavier romantic things might be ahead ;)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Charlie stares at you, the mascara on her eyes streaked down her cheeks from crying. She wipes a bit of it off with her sleeve—hardly the level of decorum you would expect from a princess. She sniffles, her face kind but filled with worry.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Y/n, what happened the other day?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You feign innocence, still unsure of everything that you did anyway.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I… I don’t know…”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You struggle to find something to say—anything. It’s too hard for you to wrap your mind around at the present moment. How can you? How can you think of anything? How can you explain that you’re a raging cannibal who can’t even remember when she creates carnage so devastating that even Alastor struggles to speak of it?</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“My dear, I think it’s best if these questions remain unanswered for the time being,” Alastor breaks in. For once, you’re grateful for the interruption. He’s far more eloquent than you when it comes to stuff like this.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Your heart does a flip when he grabs at your hand and your cheeks burn a little.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>Since when do I care so much about when he does that?</em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">He seems not to notice, his gaze fixed on the princess. You wish he would look down at you and tell you everything is okay. But everything is <em>not</em> okay. You now have to worry about the King of Hell roaming about the hotel.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I heard there was a lot of destruction in the Southern part of the Pentagram the other day,” Charlie crosses her arms; she’s not finished. She’s not going to let the two of you bury your secrets so easily.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You shrug, doing your best to convey as much ignorance as possible. Guilt stains your veins and face, though. It’s obvious to everyone you won’t be hiding any bodies with much success—not any time soon, anyway. You wonder how Alastor got away with all the murders he committed while he was alive. How he manages to keep so much composure about him when talking about such grisly details is beyond you.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">For now, you just bury your head in your husband’s side. You wish you hadn’t rolled out of bed this morning. Now you have to face the music. And you’re not even sure what tune is going to be played.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Charlie, listen,” you start, but Alastor wraps a hand around your mouth. He glares down at you, his smile an utter joke. He’s not happy; you hope he’s not angry with you and just at the situation at large. Though, his grip on you is gentle enough to tell you you’re not in as deep a sea of waters as you might think.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>Hopefully.</em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">“With all due respect, Charlie, now isn’t the time to talk about what happened. My wife and I need to have some time alone to worry about these things. When and <em>if </em>we’re ready, we will tell you all that you need to know. But, for right now, I ask that you keep this between us. I’m sure you know that your father won’t take to kindly to disruptions of the sort that you’re referring to.” </p>
<p class="p1">Charlie doesn’t seem convinced, her face scrunched up in confusion. But she just shakes her head, deciding it’s best to just let things go. It’s what she does best.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Fine. You alright, Y/n?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You swallow a lump in your throat, being careful not to let your voice crack now that you have the floor to speak again.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah… I’m fine. Your dad is… interesting.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Charlie chuckles at this, though it’s a hollow one. She’s angry and you can only hope she doesn’t direct any of it at you. If you could tell her and ask questions about what happened, you would. But you don’t even know what to tell her about what happened in the first place.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“He’s certainly not like me. That’s for sure. Well, sorry to interrupt you both. I didn’t know I was intruding.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">It’s then that you hear the hurt in her voice. You reach out to her without thinking, but she’s gone before you can say anything else. Your web of lies is tying you up with sadness. You look up at Alastor, his image blurring from the tears forming in your eyes.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I… I think I need to go.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“To where?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He moves in front of you to keep you from escaping his view. You try to push him out of the way, but he stops you by picking you up and scooping you into his arms.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I… I don’t know. Put me down,” you plead. “I can’t… I can’t keep doing this. I’m just hurting people. I hurt Angel Dust. Now Charlie. And apparently a bunch of other people; people that won’t get up ever again. And now the King of Hell is here and we’re in deep shit.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You’re sobbing.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Alastor doesn’t put you down, instead cradling you to his chest and sighing.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You’re not really cut out for violence, are you?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You let out something like a laugh, though it’s choked by your crying.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You think?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Look, darling, I understand this is all difficult for you to understand, but I can’t have you spilling your secret to the King’s daughter. He’s here because he perceives a threat. Only he is supposed to be able to erase citizens outside of Extermination Day. He’s a fallen angel. For us to have been… <em>capable</em>… of such carnage is unheard of.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You swear you see a gleam of… <em>joy</em>… in his eyes when he mentions the blood-fest you all created together. It makes your stomach lurch. You wonder if you’ll be able to keep yourself from retching; you’re not about to do it while he’s holding you though. You don’t think he’ll be too happy to have vomit all along his suit.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“So what do we do?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Alastor carries you out into the foyer. With breakfast duties done, you know that he’s likely to bring you upstairs and make you learn more things about Wendigo biology and your new powers and all the things you wish would go away.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“We keep training and learning in private. You say nothing to anyone, do you understand? <em>Both</em> of our lives are at stake now,” he whispers.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">It’s so jarring to hear him lower his tone to the point where it’s almost inaudible. It seems… <em>wrong</em>… you know you are in some serious trouble for him to lower himself to anything less than center-stage.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You dip your head in silence, nausea still waving over you.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I suppose our little <em>deer</em> had too much to eat the other day?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Alastor throws his head back and, as though it never left, that staccato laughter is back. He winks at you; you do your best to smile through the pain and play along.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">When you reach your room, you’re surprised that he lays you down on the bed. He snaps his fingers and you hold back a shriek when you find your clothes replaced with flannel pajamas. It’s cold in Hell this time of year; you’re glad for the comfort of a thicker fabric. However, you’re not sure you’ll ever be used to his random spurts of magical prowess. He’s more than an enigma to you.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You watch with silent fascination as he plucks more books from the shelves.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Uh, Alastor?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He hums in response.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Shouldn’t I be learning to <em>use</em> magic?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He turns to look at you, a wild grin plastered on his face—wider than usual. That tells you immediately that you’re in trouble. He’s <em>scheming</em>. You swallow the fear rising in your chest—you’ve had enough discomfort for a day. Can’t he see that? Can’t he just be normal?</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You almost choke on a laugh at the thought of Alastor being something along the lines of normal. It would make you worried for him, not relieved.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Darling, should you learn how to clean a gun and how it works before you shoot it, or just start wildly pointing it at people and pulling the trigger?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You cross your arms.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Well, first of all, I wouldn’t point a gun at someone in the first place. That’s not particularly safe; it’s just plain rude.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Alastor laughs.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Says the woman who just <em>ate</em> many a damned soul here in Hell.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You glare at him and, to your surprise, he almost looks remorseful for bringing that up.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>Does he actually care when he hurts my feelings?</em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">He is your husband after all. You want to talk to him about that more. Your <em>feelings</em>. You know he won’t want to. It’s not something he’s comfortable with and he’s already probably been more than confused at actually feeling affection for someone, no less someone he would normally consume.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Though, in this light while he’s laughing and grabbing books upon books, you can’t deny your attraction to him. But what can you do about it? Nothing. You wouldn’t dare poke the grizzly… deer demon. He would have to take initiative if he wants something like that.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“We are reading so you better understand <em>what</em> you are before you start taking more action. What we did the other day was out of necessity; now that our appetites are satiated, we have more time to think about our next steps and be more refined in our actions. Granted, there is much I have yet to learn specifically about our… <em>circumstances…</em>”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You mean you don’t know all that much about wendigo marriages.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He almost grimaces a bit, though that smile stays ticked upwards toward the sky. You wonder if it ever falls. Almost certainly never. It would have to be something catastrophic to make him lose that wonderful poker face of his.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>Wonderful? What is wrong with me.</em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">As he slides over next to you on the bed, handing you a book, you feel your cheeks get flush with… desire? You hide your face from him, mumbling something like a thanks before taking the book and propping it open.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Minutes pass.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Are you ever going to get past page one?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You look over to find him blinking at you with something like curiosity.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, sorry. Got lost in thought….”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You start turning pages, ever fascinated by how fast you can read now. But Alastor isn’t done playing his game with you. A set of claws find their way to your shoulder, gently placing themselves there.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Are you okay? I know I make light of things, but I also know that it’s a lot to take in… everything that you have. You’re not a particularly violent thing. Only when provoked. It only occurred to me how innocent you are when you would only kill people you saw as a threat to innocents. I… I don’t like that I’ve had to corrupt you.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You wonder if someone else has taken Alastor’s place. You wonder if Lucifer is possessing him right this moment to try and deceive you into saying something stupid.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">His head is tilted to the side; he regards you with such an innocent face it’s hard to remember that he’s a raging lunatic.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Without thinking, you do something stupid.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Your lips reach his. You pull back, your face stained red with shame.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“S-sorry, I—”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">To your surprise, he pulls you back in. In this moment, nothing else matters but the raging fire that’s pounding in your lips and chest. Your eyes shoot open a moment with surprise when you feel his tongue.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Just as you start to match his pace and things start to heat up, a knock sounds at the door. As if startling him from a trance, Alastor shoots up and throws you back on the bed. You almost hit the headboard, groaning as you fall.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>Well, there went any progress we were making on that. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!</p>
<p>Qualifying exams are on the horizon; I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out as well as any future delays that are likely to arise due to my studying requirements. </p>
<p>In any case, let me know what you think; stay tuned!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Fire in the Hotel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>~*~ Alastor's POV ~*~ </p><p>Who was knocking at the door? And why is there a fire in the hotel?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The door opens; Angel Dust is waiting on the other side. You growl.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>How dare he interrupt… whatever that was with my wife. </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">You’re still not sure what came over the little creature. She’s never been one to be so assertive or demonstrative in her Afterlife. And you’ve been there since the <em>beginning</em>. You wonder if she was like that when she was alive. The thought of anyone else touching her makes your blood boil.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The last thing you need is an arachnid to add fuel to that fire.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What do you need, Angel?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Ooo, testy. We weren’t gettin’ feisty in here, were we?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You glare at him, keeping your signature smile but letting it portray more of the dangerous things you have in mind when it comes to dealing with him. But you know this would upset your lovely wife.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Whom you just <em>threw</em> onto the bed. You don’t flinch, but internally, you want to slap yourself. How could you have been so callous? Were you that ashamed to be caught in your darling’s arms? It unsettles you. She deserves to be pampered—loved.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You shake yourself. You can’t let your resolve dissipate in a moment so important, such as this. Angel wouldn’t come and disturb you unless it was incredibly important.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No, Angel, we were not ‘getting feisty’ as you put it. I came up here to help her become more acquainted with her demon form.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Angel Dust hums, waggling his eyebrows.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Kinky.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It takes everything in you not to slap him with your microphone at this point, but you manage to keep your resolve. Another score for holding on to whatever strip of humanity you have left. It’s thin, but it’s kept alive—especially by the little doe behind you who’s sitting up and rubbing herself to check for any bruising after having been cast aside so roughly. You wish you were the one there to check on her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Is there a point to this Angel?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Uh, yeah. Lucifer’s been scaring the guests downstairs. I brought him to see them in the dining room and he’s been threatening them and asking people about a ‘monster’ in the Southern Pentagram. You wanna go deal with that?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Your veins feel like ice; you’re never afraid but, in this moment, there’s an exception. The apple freak <em>does</em> know then. Which is all the more reason to have your guard up. You have to intervene—you know this. But you can’t have your wife anywhere near him. They can’t interact at all.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’ll go settle this.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You turn to your wife, offering her a more apologetic smile for your earlier actions.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Do you mind staying here for a bit, darling? Grab a book or two and start taking notes. I’ll be back.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She nods; you thank your lucky stars that she’s more understanding than most. She doesn’t even look angry. You openly wince in front of her; you notice the look of concern pass through her face and curse yourself. You’ll have to make up for your transgressions later.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Right now, the Devil is downstairs terrorizing your patrons in a place that’s supposed to offer at least a thin veil of safety, no matter how fake. Your show can’t be interrupted.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You shut the door to your room, silently praying that your wife will have common sense and stay put. That it isn’t a trap and you won’t come back to find her missing. You’d be devastated to find her gone.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">And that exchange earlier… you’d wanted that to continue. How far, you’re not sure. But it would have been nice to have had the opportunity to know. She is your wife, after all.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">When you reach the lobby, everything is in chaos. A few demons rush to you, hoping for refuge from the infamous Radio Demon. You aren’t one who likes to be touched, so you brush those fools aside. They know better. Still, you pity them. Many of them bear scars that tell you that the Devil has now resorted to violence.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">In the dining room, you find him eating a funnel cake. He’s peaceful at this point. The world around him is on fire--literally--and he doesn’t have a care in the world about it. At the sight of Alastor, he looks up and smiles, beckoning him to join.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Would you like one?”</p><p class="p1">He gestures to the nasty plate of sugary disgust in front of him and you wave your hands.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No, no. I’m not one for sweets.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You keep your smile as genuine as possible, but you’re sure that he’s picked up on your irritation at this point.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Your highness, might I ask <em>why</em> you’re terrorizing the patrons here?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He laughs. He has the audacity to laugh at his recklessness. His hospitality is poor and his demeanor earlier is shattered.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“My daughter needs to learn that redemption isn’t possible.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Ah, so it’s his daughter. Charlie. I wonder….</em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">“Why did you decide that now, of all times, was a good time to come in here and tell her that? This project has been under way for quite some time… why now?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer smirks in his direction, snapping at another bite of funnel cake.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Does he have no decorum?</em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">“She’s distant from me. I want her to see that I still care but that she has consequences she must face for being the black sheep of the family. Why couldn’t she have chosen theater or something that would benefit the royal image?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You take note of the glass next to him. You wonder how many drinks he’s managed to finesse from Husker. It doesn’t take much to bribe your assistant. You’ll have to speak with him later about avoiding the Devil’s demands. You can’t have Lucifer himself drunk in this hotel when he’s still carrying so much baggage. You decide to change the subject.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Did you find your room to your liking?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Haven’t even made it up there. Say, where’s your little wife?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You avoid the urge to hurl yourself at him when he even brings her up. She’s <em>yours</em>. No one else’s.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“She’s resting.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You leave it at that. You’re not going to give him the slightest hint that your wife is the monster he seeks. You wonder why he hasn’t brought it up. He has to be suspicious of you.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why? It’s midday?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yes, and her transition didn’t happen but a few days ago. She’s still getting used to her demonic form.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You give her the best appearance of innocence and weakness as possible, but your face says it all.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Touch her and I will do my best to bring an uprising against you and bring this place crumbling to the ground. I can kill now.</em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">He doesn’t know that last part, though you’re sure he suspects your involvement. After all, you’re now the overlord of <em>quite</em> the section of Hell. You swept in and took from even your toughest of enemies. It makes you worry for your little doe. You know it won’t be long before Vox or Valentino or even Velvet will come knocking at your door. She’ll have to be ready to fight. You want her to be strong enough.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You catch Lucifer watching you. He knows you’re thinking about something important, else you wouldn’t be so lost in thought.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Is she struggling?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No, she’s not struggling. She’s just getting used to things.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer squints at you, but you maintain your poker face.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Your majesty, do you find the drinks here to your liking?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You decide to be a bit cheeky. You were, after all, raised by a woman known for having plenty of southern sass. You learned from the best.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer hiccups. A telltale sign of one too many drinks.</p><p class="p1">“I do find them to my liking. Where is my daughter?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He lets himself slip and you see your opportunity.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Not sure. She was rather… <em>angry</em>… earlier. I’m not sure where she went to, but she seemed more than bothered ever since you arrived this morning.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer actually lets himself frown in that moment. You know better than to see <em>him </em>as weak for doing so. He’s the king for a reason. Still, you relish in this little victory in having shaken the Devil’s own casual, smiling demeanor.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I must go find her,” he announces.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He goes to stand, but he’s swaying. You know what this is about—even more than the new monster threatening Hell. This is about his relationship with Charlie. He wants to be close to his daughter. It’s something you can capitalize on to distract him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why don’t you get settled in your room first. I’m sure you can find her later. I’ll let her know what’s happened here and let her find you since you’re a bit out of sorts. We can’t have the guests seeing this, you know.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer looks openly offended at this.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Are you—<em>hic</em>—saying I can’t hold my liquor?”</p><p class="p1">Alastor shakes his head.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No, but I am saying that others might get that kind of idea. You don’t need any unnecessary pests bothering you, do you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer nods, his eyes glassy. The drinks won’t wash away his pain.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You help him to his feet, knowing full well that he really <em>can’t</em> hold his drinks. He’s an amateur at best; it doesn’t help that the proofs in Hell are high and he’s… not tall or built like the other demons. The drinks will hit him harder than most. It’s simple biology and chemistry. If he knew anything about the workings of the body….</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Even angels would be susceptible, if not more-so. It’s a foreign object even more-so to them.</p><p class="p1"><br/>On the way up to the penthouse sweet, you hear him mumble.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What’s that, your majesty?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You let me know if you find that monster. I’ve got <em>quite</em> the punishment in mind for it if I meet it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It chills you to the bone while, at the same time, ignites a fire in your chest.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>How dare he threaten my wife. </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">You’re a master at hiding your emotions, though you’re sure a glint of rage was present just then in your eyes. They didn’t become radio dials, though. That’s the one saving grace in this equation.</p><p class="p1">Before you make it to his room, Charlie steps out in the hall.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Alastor, what—?"</p><p class="p1">She catches sight of her drunken father.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Charlie!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The sound of the name she prefers stops her in her tracks. She quickly realizes the situation and groans.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Sorry, my dear, your father was a bit rough with the guests and I went down to check on him. I figured he must’ve gotten lost on the way to his room. Very distressing, I’m sure, so I wanted to ensure he made it up here okay. Do you mind taking him the rest of the way? I have to go put out the fires in the lobby.” </p><p class="p1">You hold back a laugh.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You set fire to the lobby?!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She crosses her arms, looking very much like her mother in that moment. She may have her father’s attributes, but her expressions are very much like Lilith’s.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry—<em>hic</em>—honey. I got carried away,” he slurs. “I just missed you so much. I wanted you to see how sad this project makes me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“How sad it <em>makes you</em>? How about abandoning me? How about leaving me to fend for myself? How about basically disowning me?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She looks to you with so much fire in your eyes it makes you a bit nervous, but you don’t let anyone see that. Instead, you slide Lucifer over onto Charlie’s shoulder. You allow yourself a moment to give her a look.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I need to get things under control so I can get back to Y/n. I need to make sure she’s okay.” </p><p class="p1">Charlie’s expression changes. She understands the message. You only hope she doesn’t bring up the conversation in the kitchen earlier. It’s not enough to betray your wife, but with the Devil’s current state of volatility… it might be enough to get the dogs sniffing at your door. And you <em>hate</em> dogs.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’ll take care of things.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">With that, you take your leave. You don’t stay around to hear what goes on behind you. That’s between father and daughter. Right now, you need to go calm some guests down so you can bring back the calmness that usually fills the hotel. And then you have to make dinner. And make up your earlier actions to your wife with some kind of recompense.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It’s a laundry list longer than you’ve ever had in your life. And you’re desperate to finish it. You hate the idea of Y/n being alone. Your heart lurches; it’s not a normal feeling. It occurs to you—you <em>miss</em> her.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>That little, vexing creature… what have you done to me?</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here's another update! Might be a while before the next one--it just depends. Studying is going to be my life for the next two weeks, at the very least. I hope you enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. The Danger of Sitting Still</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alastor and Y/n realize that they're playing a game far more dangerous and involved than they thought. Who can they trust? And what can they do to protect themselves now that the King of Hell is a guest at their hotel?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi, everyone!</p>
<p>**Note, there are some hints at past abuse in this chapter. If that makes you uncomfortable, be forewarned and feel free to skip this chapter.**</p>
<p>Yes, I am alive! I apologize for the huge hiatus I ended up taking. I appreciate all the reads/comments/kudos I have gotten during my absence--they have not gone unnoticed. </p>
<p>Good news: I passed my exams! </p>
<p>My semester is fast-paced and requires a lot of me, so I can't promise consistency of updates, but I am resolved to be more committed to my writing, both here and everywhere. Believe me when I say every one of my creative outlets have suffered a hiatus I never intended to take. </p>
<p>In any case, I hope you enjoy this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You’re aching for Alastor to return when he finally throws open the door to your room. You don’t know why, but every moment you spend without him becomes agonizing. You don’t know why but, while reading, you’ve grown nauseous. Your head hurts a bit from being thrown onto the bed and you wish you could just talk to him about what happened.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">But it’s clear by the strain in his smile that something else is going on. You take a big whiff and immediately take note of the scent of brimstone—fire….</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Honey? Are… are you okay?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You broach the subject carefully; you wonder in that moment if he’d ever hurt you. On instinct, you flinch when he turns to you. His eyes widen and his smile softens as he closes the gap between you both.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Darling, I am more than fine. Lucifer set fire to the lobby and I had to put it out. He had too much to drink and I had to step in.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You nod as he places a hand to your cheek. You lean into it; you’re not sure why—it just feels natural. In that moment you close your eyes and try to ignore the impending danger facing you both. If Lucifer catches on, it’s clear that he’s not stable. You’ll both be fried and there’s so much left to learn that you don't want to miss out on.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Your eyes slide up and meet his.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Why did you flinch?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You shrug.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Force of habit,” you mumble.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You don’t want to bring those demons back out of the closet—pardon the horrible pun. You can still hear your mother’s screams. Your father’s violent outbursts. It’s something you keep repressed and you’re not ready to let those things out into the open again. You’re too shaky as it is.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Did someone hurt you? I need names,” he presses on.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">In that moment, you can’t help but chuckle, the darkness temporarily shut away.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“No. Just bad memories,” you mumble.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He nods; he seems to know that the topic would be better approached later. Instead, he turns on his heel and turns his attention to the bookshelf.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Have you had any luck in reading?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You shake your head; you realize he’s still not facing you and speak up.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I’ve been reading since you left to handle Lucifer and I can’t find anything to explain what’s going on.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Alastor laughs.</p>
<p class="p1">“Dear, when I said to read, I meant to enjoy yourself. My tomes aren’t going to carry any of the information we seek. What did you end up finding?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You grumble something inaudible; he puts a hand to one of those tufts on his head.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>So those are ears, then. But I have them… why didn’t I know that? Why is that so weird to me, still?</em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">Without realizing it, you’re running a hand along yours to still the strands of fur that have stood on end in memory of the terrible things you’ve read while he was away. Torture methods. Dark spells. Things you wish you could unsee.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You hum a bit, unsure of how to respond.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He laughs again, pulling other books from his shelves.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I think you might enjoy these instead. We’ll make a plan to go to some of the darker corners of Hell together tomorrow to find answers about what’s going on. I have some connections….”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You force a smile at him and take a look at the books he’s selected. You can’t help but stifle a grin. They’re happy books. Fairytales. </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>He knows.</em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">You’re just not cut out for the carnage like he is; the fact that he respects that means all the world to you and more. You throw your arms around him, the books tumbling to the floor.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I missed you,” you whisper.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You don’t like being vulnerable, but your heartstrings have been tugged to roughly today. You worried all day about him and were overwhelmed by all the darkness you wrapped yourself in within the pages of his more horrible tomes.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He’s stiff to the touch and you want to throttle Angel Dust all the more for interrupting your earlier, much softer moment. But it was going too fast, you realize. You don’t really know much about the creature you’re holding onto. You want to, though. You want to trust him and open up.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>He’s the only one that seems to have a clue. </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">Slowly but surely, he relaxes into your grip. He lowers his head onto yours, careful not to prick himself on your own little antlers. You both sway back and forth a bit before he pulls back, his smile strange and foreign—you think twice about stepping back. You don’t want him to think twice about the “people that hurt you” that he was ready to hunt down earlier. You don’t want to have to explain.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Will you read with me?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">His eyes seem distant; at first, he doesn’t respond. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of that monster that you’ve seen one too many times. You swallow something like an ice cube lodged in your throat and wait with bated breath for him to speak. To respond. To do <em>something</em>.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You smile, despite your urge to flee the room. You wish your emotions would make their mind up. Right now, you feel like a locomotive out of control and ready to leave the rails.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Honey, what actually happened with Lucifer?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">This time, his eyes slide to you. His pupils are still dials but, for once, you realize they’re not the focus of his rage.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“He’s onto us, darling. We’re going to have to play a very delicate game. I don’t think the hotel is safe for us, anymore. Not right now. We’re going to have to move.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The resolution is startling. Your mind, struggling to keep up, tries to come up with a coherent response. You find one.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Won’t he be suspicious if we do that? That’s practically admitting guilt.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Alastor shakes his head.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“We won’t do it all at once. We’ll present it in some sort of advertisement atmosphere. That’s all I can think to do.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">What scares you most about this is that this reveals to you that <em>he’s</em> scared. Granted, you’re both planning to outwit the Devil—not something that should be done. And his daughter knows more than she should. It’s a dangerous game to be playing; you both silently exchange a glance that reveals you’re both on the same page, whether it’s spoken aloud or not.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“We need to talk to Charlie. Later. And we need to do it somewhere else.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Maybe we should show her?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You blurt the option out and cover your mouth as soon as you’ve spoken.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He looks at you like you might have suggested passing out Bibles to sinners on the local street. But you’re determined.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“She knows something is wrong. She’s going to hear about this from her father. But she needs to know more or else she’ll feel like we’re… hiding stuff from her.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Alastor laughs, his chortles more staccato than usual.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“And what, pray tell, happens if she makes up with her father?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You break out into a thin sweat, realizing the implications of such a reality.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“He’s here to make amends and persecute us, darling. I’d ordinarily say that would be a good idea; I realize what you’re saying. But right now? The only people that can know the details are the ‘double-dead,’ as Angel would call them, and ourselves. We can only hope, at this point, that the dead <em>will </em>speak. As long as they remain silent, we remain in our predicament.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You don’t realize it, but you’re shaking. He removes his jacket, sliding it about your shoulders.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Why didn’t you say you were cold?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Tears have welled up in your eyes; you want to hex them away, but you know better.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I’m not.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">His smile becomes thin, as though it might break. He embraces you again, tucking you close to him like he might lose you in the wind.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“It’s okay, darling. We’ll figure this out. For better or for worse, we will stick together through this. Just promise me: never leave my side unless I say so. At least until we have a better grip on our little delusion that we’re putting on display. There’s so much at stake. I know you love your freedom and I admire that; right now, neither of us is safe alone.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You nod into his chest.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">You stay like this forever. The books stay on the floor when you finally retire for the night. As you drift into sleep, you clutch onto him with the childlike hope that this will all resolve itself. But you know better.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Planning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alastor and (Y/N) come up with a plan on how to move out without catching Lucifer's attention. But will it be foolproof enough?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am SO sorry for the radio silence everyone! (Pun intended; you hear Alastor's laugh track somewhere in the background). </p><p>School took a huge toll on me this semester; right at the end, one of my favorite professors died. I had a COVID scare of my own along with a lot of things that have been holding me up. </p><p>I hope you all can forgive me; I hope to be updating more regularly now. I have not forgotten about this lovely fanfiction and it is NOT discontinued. Updates are just sporadic as of late; for that, I apologize.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">You groan, red light streaming through the window. It occurs to you, after several seconds, that you’re wrapped up in the embrace of another being. The dull static that crackles from their chest tells you at once that it’s Alastor; worse yet, both of you have slept in. You ignore the implications of this. Right now, you want to disappear in his arms and become lost in his scent—when he’s not covered in the blood of his victims, he smells like a warm kitchen and a copse of pine trees. You’re not sure how he can be both at the same time, but it’s oddly fitting.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The static gets louder; you realize his breathing has changed. He’s awake. You lift your head to his, your eyes locking in on his. The soft glow they emit threatens to lull you back to sleep, but the dangerous smile that plasters itself on his face sends a shiver down your spine. The reality of everything from the day before hits you like a train; the way he clutches you closer to him tells you that Alastor knows, too, that things are about to get even more dangerous for the both of you.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry,” you whisper.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“For what?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Curious, you pull away a bit; you realize that you’ve actually baffled him. With an apology, no less.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“If I hadn’t come here and gotten you all so mixed up and… if I hadn’t gotten so hungry and been so stupid… Now we’re both in danger and it’s all my fault.” Tears are falling from your eyes; you try to wipe them away but he beats you to it.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He places a gentle kiss to your lips. It’s quick; you yearn for more. You can tell he might ordinarily indulge you by the look in his eyes, but you both know that there might be eyes watching.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Cock-blocked by Lucifer himself. Who knew?</em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">“You have nothing to be apologizing for, my dear,” Alastor interrupts your lustful thoughts with his usual gentlemanly tenor. You smile at him, a small blush dusting your cheeks.</p><p class="p1">“I do love when you dress yourself appropriately,” he teases, grabbing at your cheek with his fingers. “As much as I would love to keep sitting here with you, I believe we had a plan when we went to bed.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You nod.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’ve been thinking… to avoid suspicion from Lucifer… how do we make moving away look like a good idea?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Alastor hums a bit, putting a finger to his chin. Before he can say anything else, an idea strikes you.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Uhm, Alastor, where did you live before? Like, before the hotel?”</p><p class="p1"><br/>Alastor laughs; it’s a relief to hear that staccato break from reality shake you. The darkness would readily consume you both were it not for humor like his. You can’t believe that it was such a short time ago that you couldn’t bear to let him touch you, let alone trust him. Now? He’s a lifeline. A partner in crime that knows way more about you than anyone else—maybe even yourself with the way he can break into your dreams.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“My little Daisy, how could you not have asked by now? I live in Cannibal Corner. I have a radio tower that I broadcast from when I’m not looking for acts to report on from the streets,” he grins. There’s a glint in his eyes that reminds you that he is, after all, a powerful overlord.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“And you left because you were bored?”</p><p class="p1">Alastor doesn’t respond, instead getting lost in what you’re sure are terrible, dark thoughts and memories about his time in the radio tower.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Hell to Alastor, we have a bigger problem on our hands than sifting through your sick memories of torturing people,” you roll your eyes. Alastor feigns being hurt, placing a slanted hand over his forehead and pouting his lip—while smiling no less.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>That has to hurt. To constantly be smiling like that has to hurt. How?</em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">You don’t have much time to dwell on it before he puts on the full theatrics.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“My lovely wife can’t accept me for who I am. Here am I, the great Radio Demon, putting my Afterlife on the line to try and find a way to save us both and she must accost me for my sinful pleasures. Woe be unto me!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You’re laughing before you can stop yourself. You’re quite certain that the kitchen downstairs is probably run amok with hungry patrons and very confused hotel staff. But you don’t care. This is <em>your</em> husband. He owes nothing to anyone. In fact, they owe <em>him</em>.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Since when did you get to be so protective of him?</em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">“Why don’t we go to the radio tower? Why don’t you do what you did while you were alive? Broadcast the hotel.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Alastor quits his show, a bit of irritation in his eyes.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“That was a beautiful performance, love, sorry. I’m just thinking.”</p><p class="p1">And that’s enough to wipe the irritation away. You plant a kiss on his lips just to make sure the message is received. Pulling away before things get heated, you run your fingers through his jagged hair cut and smile even wider.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Darling, you saw how well that went on the picture show… why would I put my reputation on the line like that? It’s one thing to <em>be</em> at the hotel for entertainment. But to advertise it as though it could work? And let me ask you: how easy would it be for Lucifer to say I’m committing some form of treason if I speak out against his daughter’s project in such a public way? I’m an overlord, for Hell’s sake. I have to be very… particular… in how I do things down here. There’s politics in everything.”</p><p class="p1"><br/>You squint, wishing things could be more simple.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Wait… what if we use the marriage thing? People go on honeymoons, right? What if we go on a honeymoon and just phone and say we won’t be coming back save on special occasions? We did tell Charlie we would get married here. I feel like we’ve been waiting far too long for that little detail to fall into place. It’ll be perfect—a way for everyone to see us publicly united, a way for us to appear ‘normal’—if such a thing exists here. And also a way to justify why we would want to be alone.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Alastor raises an eyebrow.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You want to go on a honeymoon?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Of course he focuses on that part. </em>
</p><p class="p1">His grin gets ever-wider. “Why, darling, that sounds like a <em>lovely</em> idea.” He slips an arm around you. “And then to say we prefer the privacy of it. How truthful! How wonderful! And an excellent plan forged none other than by my own wife!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You laugh as he keeps you in his grasp. He clutches onto you a bit longer than you expect.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“So… do we go downstairs and say what we’re up to? We never gave Charlie an official date for when we want to get married. We can’t do it too soon or too late. Do you have any ideas?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Whenever you wish, my love,” he humbles. The way the static bounces from his voice betrays his fear. Spending all this time with him has made the nuances of his being so much easier for you to understand. And for him to be so vulnerable with you….</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“How do you think Lucifer will react?” Your voice is a whisper. You don’t want to trigger any unwanted attention. You swear that crazy ringmaster-looking creature can probably hear through them if his name is spoken aloud.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“He’s a fan of things like this. Balls. Circuses. Carnivals. Lu-Lu World is his own creation, you know.” Alastor pulls away again; you wish he could just hold you forever. That things didn’t have to be so complicated.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Lu-Lu World?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Never mind that right now,” Alastor says with a wave of his hand. “If we want to be able to move out and use the honeymoon as a guise, we can’t give anyone any hints that we’re leaving and doing so <em>permanently</em>. Our act will have to be believable—completely. No slip-ups. If either of us gets caught, the other needs to fabricate a story and fast. Or we admit defeat and we have to own up to that of which we are now capable.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">His voice is low; his eyes are ablaze again with something else you can’t quite put your finger on. <em>I guess I don’t know him as well as I think I do. </em></p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">Granted, he’s how much older than you at this point? It doesn’t matter in Hell, but with age does come wisdom. You glance at those sharp teeth of his.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>And I suppose age comes with psychopathy. </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">Outside your door, you hear screeching. It sounds like Vaggie. Alastor snaps his fingers and you’re both in your daily attire. You reach the door; sure enough, Vaggie is standing outside and waving a frying pan in Angel’s face. Angel looks over and sees the both of you standing there and starts chuckling.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“So that’s where my chef was! Getting it on with toots!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Alastor raises a hand to slap him but you reach out and grab his hand. “Not necessary. We were not getting it on. We were talking about our big announcement! But that can come after breakfast. I’m sure you’re all super hungry!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Right now, your stomach remains quiet after your feeding. You hope it stays that way long enough for you and Alastor to make sure what happened last time to <em>never</em> happen again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You betcha! And what big announcement?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You wink at Alastor before turning back to Angel. “You’ll see.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. A Hitch in Getting Hitched</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Y/n and Alastor announce their plans to get married. Lucifer has other ideas on how things should proceed.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It seems like everyone has gathered in the kitchen; a big announcement from the Radio Demon and his wife seems to be enough to spread rumors quick and true through the whole hotel. Lucifer himself seems to be bouncing in his seat in the kitchen. The guests wait outside, though you know that they’re waiting for someone to recap whatever happens in the kitchen to them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">But for now, you’re with faces familiar. It crushes you to see how forlorn Charlie looks. A few sparing glances at her dad remind you of how strained their relationship is. You want to console her, but you know now is not the time or place.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Instead, you catch your breath and take a few minutes to think about what you’re going to say. Alastor beats you to the chase.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Charlie, my dear, do you remember when my Daisy and I expressed interest in getting married at the hotel? To drum up business and have a more formal ceremony?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Those bright yellow eyes of hers spark to life at the mention of it; she nods enthusiastically. Before she can respond, Alastor fills the air with more of his words and resounding presence. You wonder how he manages to just keep going on like he does. Knowing the stakes. But you remember what he asked of you. To back him up. <em>No </em>slip-ups. You can’t afford them if either of you want to live.</p><p class="p1">“We would like to go ahead and make arrangements for that ceremony. Post-haste!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer giggles. “A shotgun wedding? Why, Alastor, you can’t get anyone pregnant and your darling here can’t bear children, either. Why the rush?” The glint in the Devil’s eyes alerts you immediately that he’s on to you.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You step in. “We just want to help Charlie out in any way that we can; we thought a wedding would be an excellent idea and there’s no real need to keep waiting like we have been. We’re already married by Wendigo terms, we just want the rest of Hell to know it. Put on a show and the like.” The smile you give him is enough to get him to match it. But you know by the way his eyes flicker that he’s not done trying to get the truth out of you. The Father of Lies would have to know one when he hears one.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Well, why not make it a true show then? A show rushed is a disaster, after all.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You begin to say something, but he raises a hand to silence you. All your words become lodged in your throat and it takes everything in you not to glare at him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>How dare he silence me! </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">“How about this: since you’re so <em>generously</em> assisting my daughter with her project and doing this to drum up business for her, why don’t you do it properly? And with <em>my</em> oversight?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You and Alastor both sit in stunned silence. You look up at him with something like a plea in your eyes. You hope he catches it but, by the look in his, you know that he’s just as lost. That smile is a cover for the terror that’s settling in both of your bones.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Your majesty, with all due respect—” you start to protest.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Nonsense! You shall not reject my offer! Consider it a thank you for being so supportive of my daughter in my… <em>absence</em>… not a luxury shall be spared. But I think you need more time, then. How about… <em>the day after extermination?</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">This has you sputtering.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Wait, what?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer is giggling; he looks positively mad as he stands to his feet, shaking his hands much like Charlie does when she’s excited. Except, he’s excited about making you wait for the most terrible day of the year first. And <em>then</em> being able to be married. At his expense. Under his nose. And that’s months away.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He’s called your bluff; you can see by the twinkle in his eye that he’s more than aware that you’re more than what meets the eye. You hear Alastor take a deep breath beside you. You can smell the defeat rolling off him in waves. You’ll have to strategize together again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Your majesty, I just… why? Why do all this?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Do you not think I value my daughter enough to fret over her friends?” His eyes flash red for a moment and you swallow, thinking hard about what to say next.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Not at all,” you shake your hands, acting cool despite the obvious threat. “Rather, I’m just saying this is incredibly generous of you. Obviously I’m not rejecting your offer; I would be foolish to do so. Alastor and I would be honored to do this properly to help your daughter’s efforts. I just don’t want to be a burden.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You lay it on thick; you’ve heard the stories of how he fell. Pride. Ego. And so all you want to do at this point is keep those things happy, rather than in check. This is Hell, anyway.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Nonsense!” His eyes return to their usual, yellow glimmer and his grin seems even wider. You don’t dare turn to look at Alastor for fear of bursting into tears and giving up your position. “I would be more than happy to assist you in this process! Now, we’ll have to get together a wedding planner, decide on a theme, figure out who to invite….”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Now Lucifer is pacing about in the kitchen, a million different things falling from his mouth in the form of scrambled words and plans. You think you might faint.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You clutch at the kitchen counter, unsure of what to do next. You’re cornered. There won’t be a honeymoon or a chance to escape for months. What now? You might not even survive to Extermination Day, let alone the day after. And what happens if you get hungry? Lucifer will be watching your every move now. <em>Every</em> move. His eyes catch yours and you hide your apprehension as best as possible.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You wish you’d played more poker when you were alive. You make a note to ask Husker for some tips and tricks on how to keep people from guessing your motives. Then again, you wonder if you’ll ever have a moment in private to ask for such a favor without looking even <em>more</em> suspicious.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“So, how about I take you and Alastor to lunch today? Somewhere near the palace that I’ve come to love? They make the <em>best</em> carnival food.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Something in you brings you the strength to laugh. You know Alastor hates sweets; judging from the way he’s grabbed your hand and gripped it, you know this is going to be a test of both his patience and his palate’s stamina. You can’t say no to the king—especially the King of Hell himself.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“We would love to go, so long as it’s not a bother.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Alastor’s grip tightens even more on your hand.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Careful, Alastor! You might hurt her! And we can’t have that!” Lucifer ends his little quip with something like a hiss. Alastor’s grip on you loosens.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>Why would he care if Alastor is hurting my hand?</em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">Your glowing eyes catch his for the first time; you retain your composure but the evident terror in his eyes is starting to seep out.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Alastor, darling, do you mind fetching me the champagne I’ve hidden in our room? I think we have an occasion to celebrate.” You’re buying him an out which, to his obvious dismay, he takes. For once, he needs a break from putting on an act. You’re acting far more capable at the political game at this point. Alastor is at a loss.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What a splendid idea! Charlie and I can discuss wedding ideas with the lucky bride before we go to lunch!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Charlie shakes her head, suddenly looking gloomy. “I don’t think so. Dad, you can handle this one. I need to go with Vaggie and talk about some management issues. I’ll catch up with you later, Y/n.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You lock your jaw in place, worried it might drop. <em>She’s out on wedding planning? Man… she really is pissed at her dad. </em></p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">Speaking of her dad, it occurs to you that you are now <em>alone</em> in the kitchen with the Devil. He acts aloof to the situation at first, but you know questions are bound to come spouting out of his mouth faster than you can answer them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You only hope that he can’t force you to answer—truthfully, that is. Taking a breath, you seat yourself at the island in the kitchen and put on your strongest smile. <em>This is it, Y/n. Don’t flop. Whatever you do, don’t flop.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Kings, Queens and Champagne</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alastor and Y/n continue to play Lucifer's game; in the process, Alastor gets drunk and Lucifer invites a special someone to join him at the hotel to help prepare for the upcoming wedding.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy New Year, everyone! </p><p>And screw 2020! </p><p>Happy to bring you all another update; this one is shorter, but it took me a while to figure out as it's a transition chapter. Things are definitely about to heat up!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“My, Alastor sure is taking his time about getting that champagne,” Lucifer quips. “Perhaps he’s indulging himself early. I didn’t take you as the type to hide things in your room.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">You shrug.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“It was a nicer champagne and I wanted to keep it for something special; not everyone here believes in respecting others’ belongings.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Lucifer laughs. “Of course not. You sinners are jealous beings—both of the things you do <em>and</em> don’t own.” You can tell he’s not buying your answer. He knows Alastor had to leave for something else.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">A silence passes between you both and you wonder if you’ll ever recover from how uncomfortable this all is to you.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Darkness falls over the room; you blink, noticing for the first time that Lucifer’s eyes are… <em>glowing</em>. If there’s a feeling for what it’s like to be trapped in a kiddie pool with a Great White Shark, you know for sure that <em>this</em> has to be it. You swallow a lump in your throat as the once jolly clown-demon suddenly looks the part of the Devil.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">He stands and quickly closes the gap between you. His voice sounds like darkness incarnate and you’re frozen… helpless….</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“Listen up, kid, I know you’re hiding something. I don’t know what it is, but I will find out. If you don’t come clean of your own accord and it’s something that pisses me off, you’ll surely be sorry.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">The door to the kitchen swings open; Alastor steps inside. The ominous feeling previously trying to eat you, well, <em>unalive</em>, subsides.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“Did I miss something?” Alastor’s eyes fall on you; you don’t have to say anything for him to acknowledge you with a subtle tilt of the head. He comes to stand by you. You’re partners for eternity and in crime now. You’re grateful that he’s playing both parts, though once again, the guilt of having put you both in this situation starts to writhe up through your stomach.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“Not at all! I was just commenting that you took a while to get the champagne!”</p><p class="p2">Luckily, Alastor did think to bring a bottle so as not to make things any more suspicious. You wonder if you’ll ever get to tell your husband what just transpired in the kitchen without fear of being overheard.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">You’re shaken back to reality at the sound of the champagne bottle popping. Alastor is pouring everyone glasses. Mechanical is the word that comes to mind as you raise your glass and toast to a wedding way too far in the future for comfort.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>After the Extermination. And thrown by the King of Hell. </em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">If you could run away right now and escape this horrible place, you would. How you ended up in Hell for killing someone in self-defense still escapes you. You want to speak to God in person and give Him a piece of your mind, that’s for sure. But that would only make things worse.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">The champagne is smooth against your throat and just enough of a zap to bring you to your senses. Its acrid taste is something of comfort in a moment where you feel… trapped. <em>Because I am</em>.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Doing your best to remain composed, you think of something to say.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“What exactly is involved in wedding planning?” You muster a sheepish smile, coiling a finger in your hair. Innocence is everything that you’re trying to convey, even if Lucifer isn’t buying it. “What sorts of things should we be doing since the wedding isn’t for a while?”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Lucifer nods, leaning back in his chair and putting a hand to his chin. It’s a simple movement, but it still appears just as wild as the man—well, demon—himself. Everything about him is grandiose. And <em>terrifying</em> now that you know he is, in fact, on to you and Alastor.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“I know wedding dresses take a while to alter. Tuxedos, not so much. But you, Daisy, should definitely look into some local boutiques.” His head snaps, his smile becoming even more ferocious as his eyes lock back on you. “I know!”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">A loud poof is heard and a phone appears in his hand. “I know just who to call! Give me a moment!”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">You move to step out of the kitchen, but the doors slam shut.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“No need to rush out; this will only take a minute.” Lucifer wags his finger at you, his eyes shining brighter than before as a person picks up on the other end. “Lili, darling! I need your assistance in something!”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">You swear you feel an icy river rush down through your spine. <em>Lili? As in…Lilith? </em>The last thing you need is for the Queen of Hell to join her King. It’s a losing battle, though. You see by the way Lucifer’s smile—it gets <em>wider</em> if that’s even possible.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Alastor pours himself what appears to be a third glass of champagne. You wonder how on earth your husband isn’t drunk already. He appears to be working hard to get there, though. It wouldn’t be wise to join him. One of you needs to be sober for these interactions. Putting on your best game face, you feign excitement as Lucifer slips his Hellphone back into his pocket.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>Why go through the trouble of magicking it here if it was just—</em>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">“My wife is very excited to come! She’s agreed to assist you in finding a wedding dress!” Lucifer turns to Alastor. “My good fellow, you’ve downed almost the entire bottle… why not share more with your generous king?”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Alastor quickly pours Lucifer another glass, not sparing a moment for him to badger him any longer with questions that he’s far too drunk to avoid now. The glassy look of cognitive dissonance has overcome your husband. You fear he might say too much just by being quiet. That’s uncharacteristic for him in more ways than one. Stomach churning, you look about for any sort of conversation topic than the wedding <em>or</em> the strange deaths that you’re definitely responsible for.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“How are things going with Charlie?” You wince, even as the words come from your mouth. Lucifer, to your surprise, pouts. Openly. Like a five-year-old.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">His lip drooping, he sighs. “I’m afraid my apple pie is angry with me. But how can anyone blame me? This blasted hotel is a massive blemish to the Magne name. I <em>rule</em> this place. It is to serve as a place of eternal torment. It is my job to ensure people stay here for eternity or get exterminated in the meantime.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“Why?” Once again, you wish you could keep your mouth shut. But these questions are piping hot and you can’t bear to hold them in anymore. <em>Like, I have the Devil himself here to talk to. Why not ask him all the questions I’ve ever wanted to?</em></p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">At this, he fixes you with a maniacal smile, swiping a chair from thin air to thrust out in front of him.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“Take a seat, little one! Lilith will be a while and <em>this</em> happens to be one of my favorite topics!”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Alastor looks positively faint. You look over to him. “Alastor, darling, why don’t you take a moment to go rest up? I can catch you up to speed on what you miss when you come back.” Your husband lurches, but he’s too drunk to fight you. You wonder if he’s been slipping more champagne bottles into the kitchen while you’ve been fixated on the Devil. The one in his hand now looks much fuller than the one he just poured from to appease the King of Hell.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“B-bu—”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">You glare at him, saying nothing more. He knows he’s trapped just as much as you do. You’ll have to lecture him about binge drinking to avoid stress later. Granted, this is a situation far more dangerous than the two of you ever could have imagined. You’ll just have to deal with the Devil <em>alone</em> again.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"><em>Alastor, if I survive this, you are in so much trouble. </em>Though it’s a thought, you can tell your husband gets the message from the way you glare at him as he stumbles out of the kitchen; a loud snapping noise follows letting you know that he chose to use magic to get himself back to your shared room. Every part of your soul screams to go with him.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">“So, you want to know why Hell works the way it does, hm?” </p><p class="p2">You turn back to face Lucifer. “Uhm, yes? If that’s not asking too much.”</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Lucifer twirls his infamous apple cane. “I can tell you plenty. I must say though, these questions won’t be free. In exchange, <em>I’ll</em> be asking you some questions in return. And I’m afraid I don’t make deals. I make <em>demands</em>.” That goofy laugh of his escapes him while you try to uproot yourself from the chair you’re now sitting in against your will. “It is good to be king!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Out With It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Will you be able to hold your own against the Devil? What kinds of questions will you be faced with?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Your hands sweat; you wait for the Devil to ask the first of his questions. Alastor being absent, you’re determined to keep your wits about you and protect you <em>both</em>. The Wendigo instinct to protect him is strong, even though you’ve not known each other long enough to justify a bond so thick otherwise.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“So, my dear little <em>doe</em>,” Lucifer starts. You cringe at the double-pun but let it go. “Why is it that you’re here? <em>Truly</em> here.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What do you mean? The hotel?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer clucks his tongue, his eyes full of mirthful thought. “Yes, let’s start there again. But you know what I meant so I expect an answer to why you’re in Hell, too. If you answer both, you can ask me your first question about Hell.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You realize that you’re now being forced to answer <em>two</em> questions for the price of one, but you know that arguing is futile. The way he wraps his claws against the decorative apple on his cane is threatening. <em>Those things are sharp. </em></p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">“Well? Cat got your tongue?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You glower.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“No. As for the hotel, I was attacked when I got here. I saw an advertisement on TV and somehow found my way here. Your daughter very kindly let me in to stay even though I have no desire for redemption. Why I’m in Hell? No idea. I killed a man, but it was self-defense. I suppose murder isn’t excusable.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why did you kill him?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You swallow. A <em>third</em> question now.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I… he… I was kidnapped. He was a serial killer. I managed to take him out while I was dying from the drug he dosed me with. He gave me too much, I guess. I stabbed him. A lot.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A silence follows; Lucifer is grinning like a wild animal.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Fascinating. I’ve never heard of someone coming to Hell for self-defense. Had you fancied murder before?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Your cheeks burn. “No! I… I mean, no? I don’t think so?” You’re sputtering, your mind trying to find any evidence of any prior desires while you were alive. You shrug, coming up blank. “If I did, I don’t remember, honestly.” The thudding in your chest slows a bit. Comfort isn’t a safe feeling right now, but you let yourself wear it a bit. <em>Try not to look guilty, Y/n.</em></p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">“Hmmm…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Do I get to ask a question now?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Go right ahead! I do owe you at least one answer, I suppose.”</p><p class="p1"><br/>“Is the planet in the sky Heaven?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Yes, it is! You see, we are a planet, too. A bit weirdly shaped. Like a layer cake. We’ve got seven layers, too. One for each of the deadly sins. You sinners are in the lowest circle—the Pride circle. I rule over all of them, but this is the one I reside in and deal with the most.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You smile, grateful that he’s giving you so many answers to one question. <em>Generous. I don’t feel bad about having to answer so many questions before I get to one… oh no….</em> You see what he’s doing, but you hide your enlightenment deep in your soul. He’s trying to get you to <em>trust </em>him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“My turn! And let’s not cut corners. Do you know anything about those dead sinners?”</p><p class="p1">If your blood could turn to ice, you’d be frozen. “Uh…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’ve been truthful with you. And I know a lie. Don’t evade.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Your mind spins, thinking of an exit.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What if I do?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“You answer my question first,” he hisses.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“It’s not a question about Hell.”</p><p class="p1"><br/>“Doesn’t matter,” Lucifer’s eyes glow a bit; the temperature in the room is up and down like a carousel horse that’s lost control. “You answer me either way. There’s no way out.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Something in you clicks; light pours out of your hands. They whirr like a projector. Before you can stop it, the memory of your hunt starts to play along the kitchen wall. Chittering like a maniac, Lucifer dims the lights so it plays like a proper movie. You’re forced to watch all over again how you lost control. What happened in the streets. It all comes streaming back into the present; your eyes glow like lamps and your teeth feel sharper in your mouth.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">When the last sinner falls and Alastor is coming to get you, the projector stops. Everything in your body is screaming—<em>run</em>. Alastor still isn’t back. He still hasn’t come downstairs and now the Devil knows <em>everything</em>. <em>Freaking. Everything. </em></p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">Something like bravery, for a flit of a moment, consumes you. Your head turns to him; a smile forces its way on your face.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“It was a happy little accident,” you say, quoting Bob Ross. You’re not sure <em>why</em> you would do such a thing in such a terrible moment, but you’re not really sane right now, either. Your eyes are still glowing, tears matching your glowing (e/c) are staining your cheeks and your hair is whipping in a breeze that’s controlled only by your emotions. <em>And given that I have no control in that department.</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer is silent, appraising you with something like… <em>pride?</em></p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">“You, my little honeybee, are <em>quite</em> interesting. And here I thought I had some treasonous asshole on the loose. In fact, I have a baby wendigo who’s capable of <em>murdering</em> other citizens of Hell!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A rock seems to have wedged itself in your throat; despite many efforts, it won’t let you breathe. It’s <em>stuck</em>.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Breathe.” His command forces the invisible thing to free you. You gasp.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why is it so hard for you people to tell me the truth? Do you know how much time and money I would have wasted searching for insurgents? This is far more fun!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A wild thought hits you. “Wait, you’re not mad?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Quite the contrary!” He giggles. “I want to know what in the nine circles you are!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You can’t help yourself. “I thought you said there were seven?”</p><p class="p1">A hearty laugh escapes him again. The ringmaster appearance <em>really</em> suits him. “There are. The idea of nine circles comes from a gentleman known as Dante. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” You nod hastily, realizing just how little you know about this place.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why do sinners live in the Pride circle? And why can’t we visit other circles?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Them’s the rules, kiddo, them’s the rules. You weren’t born here; you were sent here because of your errant ways, though I <em>really</em> don’t understand why you’re here. It makes no sense. Self-defense has never been a reason to show up. There has to be another reason. And to be able to kill sinners? Only myself, Charlie, and Lilith have been capable prior to this. That and the angels that perform exterminations every year. And now you… and Alastor… and he’s no angel, that’s for sure.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A snort leaves you before you can stop it and he joins you in the laughter.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Why do we have the ability then? Is it because we bound ourselves?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I could be wrong, but there have been other Wendigo couples. Typically they don’t last long or someone gets exterminated, but I’ve never seen anything like this. Ever. And it looks like you ate out of necessity?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">You nod. “Alastor eats out of necessity, too. Like, other foods just don’t fill him up like others do. It’s almost like how, you know, in books… vampires <em>have</em> to have blood, or bees <em>have</em> to have pollen to help make honey. It’s like a function of our existence.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Before he can speak, a knock sounds at the kitchen door. Alastor comes bolting in.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Your little flower and I were just discussing your latest hunting escapade.” Lucifer holds up a hand as a record scratch is heard. “I forced the answer out of her and you both are, for the time being, not in trouble. I’m relieved that I am faced with two crazed Wendigos rather than political threats. Unless I should interpret things differently?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Alastor violently shakes his head. “No, your highness. I…” he looks at you, “we didn’t realize what was happening when it did, I assure you. Typically I eat and people regenerate. This was a completely unplanned experience. If anyone should be held accountable for any reason, it should be me. My Daisy didn’t know what would happen. I assured her that people would get back up. The little doe would only target people she thought worthy of being targeted in the first place.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer faces you. “Is that so?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A sheepish nod is all you manage. You can’t stop panicking. <em>Did Alastor just take the blame for me? </em>Tears stop just short of falling. More questions are piling on top of more questions, but for the time being, the Devil is <em>not</em> mad at you. Unfortunately, though, he’s not done prodding you for more answers.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What do you think determines someone as being worthy of extermination?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Well, pedophilia, rape, and things of that particular structure top my list. Taking advantage of people in that kind of way is absolutely unacceptable. Targeting the weak… I hate it. I’ll eliminate those people when I hunt.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer hums. “Interesting. You and Lili would get along charmingly, I’m sure.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Nothing in the form of response comes to mind so you stay silent. Alastor is at your side; you’re not sure when and how he got there without making a scene or some obnoxious noise, but you’re grateful for the company.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What happens now? What do we do? And… how do we figure out how we did what we did?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Lucifer cackles. “You do it again! But this time, I go along! Not right now, of course. I want to spend more time getting to know you and reacquainting myself with my good friend, Alastor. And Lili is almost here. I want to get her opinion before we do anything more.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">A wrenching pain spirals through your gut at the thought of hunting again, but you know it’s a necessary evil. You’ll be hungry again at some point. You <em>have</em> to eat.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Fair enough. Thank you.” You manage something of a bow when you stand.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Of course! Does my apple pie know about this?” You and Alastor shake your heads in unison.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“She’s mad at me for not saying, but we were worried that it would cause more tension between you both. Would it be alright if I told her? It might be a good thing that she learns that you pardoned us. Maybe help ease the hurt between you both?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">It’s dangerous territory, but you dare to tread there. But Lucifer looks even <em>happier</em> if that’s even possible.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I would be in your debt if you could help me patch up things with my daughter. And my debt is worth more than you could ever hope.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Debt is the least of your worries. Keeping the King of Hell from deciding that wrath towards you and your husband is more on your list of concerns, so you decide to make that your priority. <em>Help Charlie and Lucifer heal</em>.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’ll see what I can do,” you smile. As if on cue, Charlie comes storming into the kitchen.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Charlie, I need to tell you something.” The pleading look in your eyes stops her from going on whatever tirade she was ready to hit her father with. Her presence is terrifying right now; you know a fight is on the horizon unless you distract her with something else. You meet your eyes with the Devil’s, making sure the risk you’re taking is not lost on him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I want to tell you about what happened. The other day. And why I couldn't tell you until now. Did you hear about those sinners that died? Like, <em>actually</em> died? And weren’t killed by angel blades?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Charlie freezes. Her apple-shaped eyelashes bat in confusion for a few seconds.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I… heard something… yeah.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“Alastor and I killed them. On accident. When he took me hunting. We didn’t say anything because your dad mentioned trying them as traitors. When he realized it was us, he pardoned us. We just finished explaining what happened to him here. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just didn’t want to get hurt or have Alastor get hurt because of something that’s… my fault? I still don’t know what happened, but your dad is helping us figure it out and since he’s onboard I wanted to let you know. I know you’ve been stressed and didn’t want to overburden you—” you're engulfed in a hug before you know what’s happening. Charlie pulls back, tears in her eyes.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“I’m so glad you told me.” She turns to her dad. “And… I’m glad you’re helping them and that they’re not after you.” To everyone’s surprise, she rushes her father with a hug. “Thanks, Dad. I love my friends. I’m glad you’re being kind to them.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">For a moment, it looks like the Devil might cry, but you don’t spend time staring. There’s no reason to push him any further in the generosity area. You know there will be strings attached to his helping. But that’s not important right now. Right now, you and Alastor have dodged a bullet the size of Hell. You grip his hand in yours and smile.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“What’s going on here?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Everyone turns; your mouth drops.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>The Queen of Hell is here. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I appreciate your patience during my hiatus! </p><p>I'm working hard at my Ph.D. studies and often find it hard to write at all, but I have missed this fanfic sorely and am glad to be back with an update. It took me a while to figure out what to do, but it finally clicked for me! Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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